


UnderDoom

by AgitatingSkeleton



Category: Doom (Video Games), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9275174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgitatingSkeleton/pseuds/AgitatingSkeleton
Summary: The Underground gets one Hell of a newcomer. Follow the Doom Slayer on his path to escape the Underground, meet new friends, and make pasta. Uses elements from both the 1993 Doomguy and the 2016 Doom Slayer. Rated T because, duh, Doomguy.





	1. Friendship Pellets

Another one has fallen.

Flowey could feel it. He had lived and died and killed so many times in the blasted Underground that he could tell, _he just knew_ when a new entity had entered his domain. It could be that he was so in tune with his world - a sadistic mixture of prison and playground – or it could be that his roots grew deep into the ground, and he had eyes and ears everywhere, or it might have even been his own lingering insanity, voices that don’t have mouths to come from telling him odd things.

The _why_ didn’t matter, Flowey thought. What mattered was that new prey was here. Boredom comes naturally with completion, and so having had his fun with every one monster in the Underground, Flowey was ecstatic at the thought of new ‘friends’.

The little golden flower burrowed deep and found his way to the Ruins, near the only entrance from the surface and into the Underground. It was so high up, it was always a wonder how the previous humans did not die on the spot when they first fell. Hopefully, Flowey thought, his new friend was in good enough condition to ‘play with’.

Flowey pulled his face into the brightest smile he could muster, and waited. Already, he could see the silhouette of his quarry – oh, a big one! This one was tall, and was by no means a child. With such stature and a lack of striped apparel, it was evident that this one was an adult. I’ve never had an adult, Flowey thought. Oh, this will feel _good_.

“Howdy!” Flowey greeted the human. “I’m Flowey! Flowey the Flower!” he added, taking note of the helmet the man – definitely a man – in front of him wore. I wish he wasn’t wearing a helmet, Flowey thought. I wanted to see his face when I tear him to shreds!

The man only grunted in reply. It was a dry, tired grunt – not mad or anything, just the kind of grunt you make when you want to affirm something, but you’re too tired to use words.

What a weirdo.

“Hmmm…” Flowey openly pondered, holding a leaf to his face for added effect. “You’re new to the Underground, aren’tcha? Golly, you must be so confused!” Now Flowey welcoming smile opened up to become a toothy grin.

“Someone ought to teach you how things work around here!” Flowey exclaimed. He’s buying it, The flower thought. “I guess little old me will have to do.” Though the man did not reply, or even budge, at this, Flowey would just take that as a yes.

“Ready?” Flowey asked, barely containing his excitement. Finally, the man grunted again. It sounded _exactly_ like the same grunt he gave earlier.

Man, what a weirdo.

“Here we go!” Flowey said with a flourish. With that, Flowey felt his senses arise in that familiar way as the world around him blacked out – except for the man of course. And then, Flowey could see it.

His soul.

The man’s soul was a deep, blood red. Flowey has seen much blood in his many lives, and he had never seen anything redder. It was thrumming, burning with determination. What shame it would go to waste, Flowey thought.

“See that heart?” Flowey asked the man, who was now observing the unrealistic heart floating in front of him. Again, he grunted positively.

“That is your soul, the very culmination of your being!” Flowey stated, internally cringing at his own act. Strangely the man seemed unperturbed by this, and just nodded. “Your soul starts off weak,” Flowey added, realizing now how his soul looked strong. No matter, he will get his way this time, and no amount of determination is going to stop him.

“… It starts off weak, but it can grow strong if you gain a lot of LV,” he finished. The man, having not broken his gaze on his beating heart-soul, nodded again. Isn’t he going to ask what that means?

“What does LV stand for?” Flowey asked, a little annoyed at his friend’s lack of curiosity. “Why, LOVE, of course!” Flowey answered in response to his own question. The man didn’t even nod this time, the annoying little…

“You want some LOVE don’t you?” Before the man couold respond – and Flowey was sure he would just do it non-verbally again – Flowey added, “Don’t worry! I’ll share some with you!” Wow, Flowey could not _wait_ to kill this idiot.

With a cute wink, Flowey spawned some magic projectiles. “Down here, LOVE is spread though…” Flowey realized that this was a little harder to sell. But whatever will work right? “Little white… friendliness pellets.” The man nodded, not even with any doubt. Dumb as a brick. Flowey really did appreciate the easy idiots he could put one over easily, but sometimes he wanted a challenge, you know?

“Are you ready?” Flowey asked, obviously more enthusiastic about this than his target. “Move around! Get as many as you can!” The moment was finally here, although Flowey was a little disappointed at how easy it was.

Hook, line, and sinker. The man’s soul moved directly towards one of them, earning a loud _THUD_ from the soul slamming front-and-center with a bullet. The man stumbled, letting out an audible grunt of pain.

 _Finally_ , Flowey thought. He could drop his mask, and let his true face out.

Lips curling from an innocent smile to a grotesque grin, Flowey cocked his head sarcastically. “You idiot…”

All manner of smugness left Flowey’s being and was quicly replaced by confusion at that very moment. The man straightened up, and looked directly down at Flowey. Was he always so tall? And though Flowey couldn’t see his face through his helmet visor, he _knew_ it wasn’t the face of fear or betrayal, it was _mild inconvenience_.

The man’s heart, just after taking a direct hit, was not on the verge of cracking and shattering. It was _beating harder_. It had gotten _stronger_. How was that possible? Flowey thought. How was any of this possible?

It was then Flowey realized his error. He had gotten too into his spiel. He was too distracted by his bloodlust.

He didn’t look at the man’s LV.

Cold sweat formed on Flowey brow under the intense glare of the man across him. Flowey glanced down quickly to the man’s LV bar, and felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time. _Fear_. What he saw, Flowey read aloud with a cracking voice.

**DOOM SLAYER   LV 666   HP 2683/2684**

The man took a broad step towards Flowey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: updated Doomguy's HP to match Undertale LOVE mechanics


	2. Judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doom Slayer passes judgement onto the flower and the goat-woman.

"H-hey sorry about that!" the yellow flower said, panicking. "I didn't mean it, h-honest!"

One step.

"Let's, uh, l-let's try that again…" it murmured. "Y-yeah, let's do a do-over!"

One step.

"H-h-howdy!" it cried out, tears in its beady little eyes. "I'm Flowey! Flowey the—"

He raised one hand to cut him off. The flower fell silent. And from his mouth spilled out a voice like burning coals crashing against brimstone. The most evil creatures in all of existence feared this voice, which could bellow out a war cry that meant certain death, or whisper out a single word that meant impending doom. This time, the voice did the latter; the voice stated a single word unto the flower before him.

" **Demon,** " said the Doom Slayer.

The flower did not say anything, so much as utter a small yelp. His judgement had been passed, now all that awaited was the sentence.

And the sentence was always the same for demons.

* * *

 

A lot of things that normal human beings would find dangerous was not a problem for the Doom Slayer. In both his service as a marine, and in his crusade against evil, he performed death defying acts like a natural body movement. They just built him that way, the academy did. It hardened him. And so did Hell, in a way. It made him stronger.

And as Hell had strengthened him, so did he strengthen Hell. They evolved and adapted to his crusade. The charging pinkie demons were eventually bred to have natural chitin armor to protect their frontal assaults. The arch-viles started to better practice the dark arts to master teleporting new hordes of demons to battle, instead of merely relying on reviving the dead.

The demons of Hell became smarter, too. They had learned, after many, many attempts, that killing the Doom Slayer proved more of a problem than a solution. With death came the afterlife, and for the Doom Slayer, that meant Hell. Killing him only put him in the very core of their domain, and so they had started to try and capture him instead of slay him. Several methods arose and were tried, often leading to lackluster results. One idea the demons had proved too wasteful of energy and time, so it was never tried at all.

Now the demons were desperate.

And so it happened that the Doom Slayer stormed one of Hell's strongholds, ripping demons in half and tearing limb from limb all those that worship evil. The demons enacted their desperate plan, and sent one of their greatest warriors to face the Doom Slayer in this stronghold. It was noted that the great demon warrior did a good job – it did not die so easily. After the duel, the Doom Slayer was weak, but not dead. Just how the demons needed him to be. They used all the energy they reserved in the Well to create a portal to a realm unknown – and a horde of demons ambushed the weakened Doom Slayer, forcing him into the portal. Many demon lives were lost that day, but their sacrifice was not in vain. The demon plan had succeeded at last.

They sent him to another dimension.

* * *

 

The Slayer found himself putting his marine training to good use as he fell into a seemingly bottomless pit. After a few seconds, he could finally make out a sort of landing pad beneath him – a patch of golden flowers. Landing neatly on his feet, without so much as buckle or a wince of pain, he stood up and observed his surroundings. The boot camps back on Earth always taught him to keep situational awareness. It was one of the many things he was taught that he used in his eternal battle against Hell.

He could see that he was in a cavern of some sort. No blood, corpses, or lost spirits whispering corrupted thoughts were found. It honestly looked like a normal cave. Looking up to see where he came from, the Doom Slayer saw a huge hole in the ceiling that let out a naturally-occurring spotlight shine down on him.

No way is he climbing up there. Looking around some more, he saw a much more accessible doorframe-like structure made of chiseled stone. It was probably man-made, and served as an obvious doorway to whoever fell down that hole and somehow survived.

Before moving on to the next "room", he went around and touched every cavern wall, feeling for secret switches. He was nothing if not thorough. After deeming this 'starting room' clear of secrets, he finally went on.

The ground beneath him was dark, but his path was illuminated by whatever sunlight slipped through the cracks of the cavern's ceiling. As he cautiously walked through doorway, the Slayer found a spot that was lit by a bigger ray of sunlight than the other parts of the cave. And sitting in the center of this spotlight was a single golden flower.

_With a face._

_That started talking to him._

But after being subjected to interdimensional horrors, including but not limited to: reanimated corpses with functioning muscle memories allowing them to expertly wield firearms, flying skulls that were usually on fire, walking skeletons that scream like nothing else and also wear body armor and shoot dual homing rockets, and a giant rotting goat skull strapped to a wall spitting war-ready demons from its face while spouting chants in unholy languages that make you want to cut your ears out,  _a talking flower seemed pretty tame_.

"Howdy!" the flowey called out to him. Wow, it's friendly  _and_  speaks English? "I'm Flowey! Flowey the Flower!"

It was introducing itself to him now. The Slayer thought that the flower looked like those cartoon characters for children, and with it saying 'howdy' and being so friendly, it just seemed so innocent.

Probably some demon trickery, the Slayer thought. For now he would have to play along, so the Slayer grunted to acknowledge 'Flowey'.

"Hmmm," the flower continued. "You're new to the Underground, aren'tcha?"

The 'Underground'? Sounded more like a night club, thought the Slayer.

"Golly, you must be so confused!"

_Who the hell says 'golly'?_

"I guess little old me will have to do!" Oh, now it was trying to help him. Sure, the Slayer thought, just accept the help of the talking flower and get used to life in this children's cartoon named after a night club.

"Ready?" the flower went on. This flower is talkative, the Slayer thought. He answered the question with another grunt.

"Here we go!" the Flowey said in a chipper tune. And just like that, the world beyond the two of them darkened to a pitch black. The Slayer's senses, heightened by eons of battle, were heightened even further, and he felt as if he weighed nothing at all.

From his chest emerged a beating heart – the kind of heart used see on a Valentine's card, not the kind the Slayer saw daily – which floated in front of him.

"See that heart?" the flower chimed. The Slayer almost forgot the flower was even there, but he listened all the same. "That's your soul! The very culmination of your being!"

His soul.

 _His soul_.

So he does still have it, the Slayer thought. He never imagined it would look like a heart, or anything clean and kind of cute for that matter.

"Your soul starts of weak…" the flower said, beginning to trail off as the Slayer zoned his voice out. The Slayer put all of his attention in observing his soul. It was not every day that he saw his own soul. He always imagined it would be blue, and have a little face that looked like his own. All those Soulspheres left that impression on him.

"Don't you?" the flower pressed. The Slayer realized that he wasn't listening, and just nodded hoping for the best. Beside the flower, little white orbs formed.

 _Bullets_.

"Down here, love is spread around through…"

 _It was going to attack him_.

"Little white…"

 _He knew this was all a demonic farce_.

"Friendship pellets."

Well, time to see how strong his soul is, the Slayer thought.

* * *

 

"D-d-d-demon?!" it shouted, continuing to play dumb. "Y-you've got it all wrong! I'm your friend!"

The Slayer walked up to 'Flowey', readying his fists.

"Please, I'm just a flower, don't hurt—"

He had just grabbed the flower by the stem, and proceeded to quickly  _rip it out of the ground_. The flower started to writhe and scream in the Slayers tight grip.

"I'll kill you!" the flower managed to hiss out in between gasps for air, its face contorted into an ugly, evil visage that the Slayer could only describe as "demonic".

So there's its true face. The Slayer balled his fist and got ready to rip out the left side of the flower. That's how it always was, for him. Quick, brutal, and efficient. He treated all demons this way, and this flower demon was no different.

It was then a fireball slammed into his side, forcing him to the ground and weakening his grip on the flower.

"Help!" The flower cried out in its false voice. "Help me, a bad human!"

"A human, you say!" an unfamiliar voice replied. "You poor flower!"

The Slayer quickly got up to face his new attacker. And the sight sent him into a battle-rage.

Before him stood a tall humanoid, wearing a tunic with some symbol on the front – no doubt of Satanic origin. It had bare, monstrous feet, clawed hands, and a goat-like face. Small horns protruded the top of its head.

" **Demon!** " the Slayer bellowed, voice like war drums being beaten by flaming rods. It was enough to make the flower retreat into the earth, and this new demon turn to face him.

"'Demon?'" it echoed. "Sir, there's been a mis—"

It was cut off by a super shotgun blast to the chest. But no blood came from this wound – it instead leaked a dusty looking substance. The demon roared – a pathetic roar, more like a scream – in pain, clutching the wound and falling to its knees.

It was obvious now. The demons sent him to another realm, hoping to trick him with a friendly flower so that they could trap him there in the cavern. But the jig was up, so they sent a Baron of Hell to kill him. How stupid! This Baron was too fluffy and small to be of any threat. It's friendly look was likely a mask, just like that flower. There was probably more of them beyond the cavern.

"Please, stop!" the demon pleaded. Its pleas were in vain, however, as a fist slammed directly into its fluffy, super-soft maw. More dust came, and the Slayer found himself in front of a weakened demon, ready for the kill.

He pulled his chainsaw from his arsenal.


	3. RUINS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Slayer explores the Ruins in search of something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short and rough around the edges. It gets better I swear.

The tool in his hands let out an ominous rev. Was it really just a tool? The rev – more of a roar, really – sounded too organic, too predatory to be a mere tool or weapon. The man holding the metallic beast, standing above Toriel walked closer, giving the animal in his hands another rev.

The woman’s long life flashed before her eyes. There was a time on the surface – a happier time. Safer times. Then the war came, and she lost many people then. She would have outlived them regardless, but the pain was still there.  A life cut short is always sad.

Time slowed down, and more memories crawled out of Toriel’s mind, past the mental vaults that she deliberately buried them under. The Barrier. Her child. Her _children_. Self-exile. The fallen children. Children she let escape the Ruins, into the dangerous Underground beyond. What else were the monsters to do, if they knew that a human soul could free them? Six children. Blood on her hands, from six children.

Toriel felt herself grow lighter and lighter, until she threatened to float away, away from her attacker, who had slowed to a near halt in his assault. A light shone down upon her, and she felt surrounded by memories. Memories of family, friends, loved ones – all here, waiting for her.

“I’m sorry,” Toriel whispered to the ghosts of her past, words slipping out awkwardly from her dusty lips.

The world faded to black, and the metal predator came down on her.

* * *

 The Ruins fell quiet, save for the sound of heavy footprints running across the cavern ground. Many eyes were on him, but none dared to show their presence. They had sensed, they _felt_ what happened to the nice lady who fed them and protected them, and no one wanted to feel it first hand. They wanted vengeance, but they also wanted survival.

He rushed, burning in his eyes a passion for justice. He deemed it too quiet, and felt a hundred eyes on him at all times, and so he knew he was not alone. But he did not care – he wanted to get to where he was going to, _now_.

He still managed to look for secrets in the walls, but he needed to act fast. If he could find anything to help him, the better. He needed something that could heal – a soulsphere, a medpack, Hell a stimpack would be enough to stave it off. He did not find any such secrets, and time was running out, so little by little he checked the rooms he entered less and less.

Braving through spiked floors, puzzles, and the occasional ghost – that always disappeared before he could get close to it – the Slayer kept running. All the while, a little voice kept nagging at him.

 _She was sorry_.

Demons may _say_ sorry, sure, but they are never remorseful. All the thousands of demons he had slayed, he always got a good look at their eyes. There was always fear, fear for their lives. For the ones that could think quicker, there was also regret – the kind that one feels when a single stupid decision cost them their life. But there was never remorse for their evil ways.

But she was different. He looked down on her, weapon ready, and he saw remorse for her wrongdoings, whatever they were. They say repentance is the key to salvation, and the Slayer saw in her a soul worth saving.

And that was why he was running. He needed to find shelter, and a healing item. Without slowing his pace, he glanced down at the weight he carried in his arms. The damage had been done, but he could still do it, if he was fast enough.

He could still save her.

* * *

The Doom Slayer finally found what he was looking for. Before him stood a large stone brick structure, with a big doorway and two windows without glass. A fortress, he thought. There’s bound to be medical tools there. It’s also probably heavily guarded. Looking down at the goat-woman in his arms, he considered his options.

Guards be damned. He rushed into the castle, and was greeted by an eerily _normal_ interior. He had to stop to take this juxtaposition in. The exterior looked like the underground entrance to a castle, which followed the theme that he observed with the rest of the cavern: medieval ruins. But the interior looked more like a single story suburban home, or maybe a flat like those that one might see in European countries. And he could not feel a single soul in the house.

It didn’t matter. He looked around in the hallway that he just forcefully entered, and took note of his immediate surroundings. In front of him was a staircase leading down, to his left was the living room, and to his right the bedrooms.

He made a break for the bedrooms, and shouldered the first door open, and what he saw was even more confusing than his entrance into the house just a moment prior.

The room was small, and had many colorful decorations. The bed in the corner was small too, looking like it could only hold someone half of the Slayer’s size. On the floor were neatly placed shoes of varying colors and sizes, though all of them looked like they could fit in the palm of his hand. A carpet, a closet, and a bookcase – all small in size – also populated the room. It looked so simple, yet comfortable.

 _A room for children_. The Slayer looked down one last time at the goat-woman, noting that her condition was worsening, and felt… something. What feeling was this? It wasn’t a nice feeling at all; it made his heart sink and made him curse at himself. Oh, he remembers this feeling now.

For eons and eons he went by without it, but it came back stronger than ever. The Doom Slayer felt _guilt_.

He had to fix this.

Kicking a different door open, the Slayer entered what looked like a master’s bedroom, which much bigger and less colorful furniture. He finally let the woman out from his arms, laying her gently on the bed. He then took a moment to think, his body automatically moving him back to the hallway. The Slayer decided to investigate the rest of the little house, and started feeling the walls and floors and furniture for secrets.

He saw the last door on the hallway, and read the sign nailed to it: ROOM UNDER RENOVATION. That always meant secrets. Giving the knob a twist gave nothing, and punching the frame yielded the same results. He would have to look for a way around it, it seemed, or perhaps he needed to press a switch in another room and run towards this one?

The Slayer turned around with these thoughts in his mind and was shocked to see was standing behind him the entire time. Now, the Doom Slayer was rarely shocked. He may be surprised or blind-sided, often because of a demon ambush or an unforeseen tactic, but he was never shocked. And his reflexes are the fastest in all of Hell, but his mind was even faster – because when he saw that someone was behind him, his hand instinctively went for his shotgun. But when he saw _who_ was standing there, he stopped himself before he could even unholster it.

The Slayer was shocked, and remained unarmed, at the sight of _a child_. A _human_ child. They couldn’t have been taller than four feet and six inches, the Slayer noted as he saw that they barely reached the Slayer’s abdomen. They wore a green sweater with stripes, and a bowl cut for their hairstyle. They also wore a completely straight face, emotionless and unreadable.

Was the Slayer losing his edge? He could have sworn that the house was empty. A few eternities in Hell gave him a sort of sixth sense, which always told him when another living being was nearby.

All these thoughts came to the Slayer’s mind in one second, and in the next they were broken by what the child said.

“She will not let you leave,” they said, voice flat.

The Slayer felt his body tense up at what they said, despite how harmless, if a little creepy, the child seemed. He remained completely silent, waiting for their next words.

“You should have killed her.”

The Slayer felt it now. This aura the child gave off, and the words they spoke and how they spoke them, all made sense now. The Slayer balled his fists at his realization. He was right before: _there was not a single soul in the house when he got there_.

“She did not kill me,” the child added. They looked directly into the Slayer, as if seeing his eyes through his helmet visor. “And I am not haunting this house.”

The Slayer was both unnerved that the child could seemingly read his mind, and relieved that he didn’t need to speak to carry a conversation.

“You are the quiet type,” the child continued. “That is okay.”

The Slayer shook of the feeling of uneasiness, and looked directly back into the child’s empty eyes, trying to get answer out of them.

Silence.

“There is a first aid kit on the big bookshelf,” the child relented, looking away from the Slayer and towards the living room.

The Slayer briskly walked past the child, making his way for the medkit he needed. He entered the living room, not stopping to appreciate the homely feel it radiated, and immediately spotted on the very top of the bookshelf a white tin box with a red cross displayed on its lid and sides. Effortlessly, he grabbed and opened it up, and noted that the ‘first aid kit’ carried little more than a bottle scotch tape-labeled “Snail Juice” and an unopened box of band-aids with heart prints.

He didn’t even question it. Turning around to return to his patient, he was a little startled and a little annoyed to see the child there again, within arm’s reach, just standing there. They still had a blank expression and still they looked deep into his soul, penetrating armor, flesh, and bone.

“Do you know why I am here?” the child asked. The Slayer remained silent.

“Your soul interests me,” they answered.

The Slayer pushed past them and went back to the master’s bedroom. He had a life to save.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you noticed how the Doom Slayer is very thorough in his search for secrets. This is a reference to the old Doom games, where in most maps you would blindly ram into walls hoping something cool would happen.
> 
> Also, for reference, the Doom Slayer is officially six feet and six inches tall. This is an upgrade from the original Doomguy, who was said to be only six feet tall in Quake III.


	4. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doom Slayer figures out how monster medicine works.

“You sure are excited to have this child,” he said, his expression a cross between ‘I love you so much’ and ‘I’m sick of your puns’. “You know, if you keep making jokes like this…”

“One day, you could be…” he said, pausing for added effect. “… a famous MOMedian.”

It was dark, but she could make out his face in front of her. His mouth was open, corners turned up to a big smile, waiting for her response.

Silence.

“Well, I am going to bed,” she said, pretending to ignore his pun.

“Hey!” he whisper-yelled, the hurt in his voice quite noticeable. “Come on, Tori! That one was funny!”

“I know,” she said while laughing. “I am just teasing you.”

He was always cutest when she teased him.

“Goodnight, dear,” she said, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“Goodnight, honey,” he responded, returning in kind.

They slept peacefully that night.

* * *

Senses slowly flowed back into Toriel, starting with sight. Her eyes, though closed, were pained by the bright lights above her, and she instinctively pressed them shut even more. When the sting in her eyes subsided, she slowly opened them to see the ceiling of her own bedroom. What happened? Wasn’t she just sleeping with…?

The memories came back to her in order. No, that must have been a dream, a memory from long ago. After what happened, she could never sleep with him again, right? But why was she dreaming of that, of all things?

More recent memories fell into place, specifically what happened before things went black. She heard a scream, and saw a human bullying a flower. A human…

Then the sense of feeling registered, and _good lord everything hurt_. Toriel realized that she couldn’t move her body at all, as if the giant Toriel-shaped weight was placed on her that somehow did not crush her. Any movement she tried to make caused her every fiber to ache and burn.

What kind of human could so such damage? Who was that man? She remembered what he at yelled at her. A single accusation rung in her ears: _demon_.

It was not the first time she, or others of her kind, were called that.

But this was the first time that she was beat so horribly or so quickly. Then it dawned on her that _she was alive_. She could’ve sworn she was a goner, when he brought that chainsaw out. That was when everything went black. Did someone save her? What monster would be brave enough – and foolish enough – to face such a powerful human?

Questions bounced around Toriel’s head. Taking a deep breath, she used every ounce of effort in her being to crane her neck down to look at herself.

She was covered in band-aids. What’s more, these were _her_ band-aids. So someone saved her, brought her home, and patched her up with her own healing items?

Band-aids could only heal so much damage, but they could heal damage all the same. Toriel internally shuddered at the thought of what she looked like, or what she _felt_ like before she was patched up.

Turning her head slowly to the left, she could see that her writing table had been pushed to the side of her bed, and was no longer pressed against the wall on the door’s side of the room. On the table, her writing materials and lamp were neatly pushed aside to make room for a glass of some drink, and a slice of what looked like pie.

That’s when the sense of smell brought itself to Toriel’s attention. From the aroma alone, she could tell that the glass was holding her homemade healing potion, or her ‘Emergency Snail Juice’, as she called it. Whoever saved her took her heart band-aids and potion from her first aid kit, and prepared it for her. The pie was also her leftover snail pie from the night before. Someone took it out of the fridge and put it with the potion.

It was obvious that whoever saved her knew what they were doing. Band-aids and monster food were high priority healing items, and were good for emergencies like this one.

Having rested a bit, Toriel managed to reach her left arm out, and with great focus, got the glass of snail juice. She proper herself up on her elbows – which made her feel like her arms were going to snap in half – and sat up, leaning on the bed’s frame. She brought the potion to her lips, and drank the entire thing in one go.

She could feel the magic working its, well, magic. Monster food and drinks, potions, and other items heal the soul directly, which strengthens the physical body. This allows for faster healing, and sometimes instant recovery from injuries. Toriel sat up on the edge of the bed, and got the plate of pie.

To her surprise, the pie was hot. It had been in the fridge overnight, so that means someone heat it up before preparing it for her. How thoughtful! But, Toriel thought, my oven doesn’t use gas. Only someone with fire magic could use it.

But fire magic is hard to use in cooking, Toriel continued, now unknowingly taking a scoop of pie and putting it in her mouth. There was only one other monster she knew who could do it well.

No.

No no no no no.

Could it be that _he_ saved her? How? She sealed the Ruins long ago, so that he could never reach her again. But, this level of thought and care into her recovery – it just seemed too much like something he would do, now that Toriel thought about it. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of him breaking into the Ruins, just in time to stop that human, just in time to rescue her and bring her home and heal her.

_Why was she thinking of him like this?_

Toriel found herself staring at an empty plate. Did she just eat all of that just now while these thoughts played out in her head? Though, it was a very good pie. She felt a lot better already.

However, she could feel a bit of pain left. That human must have done a number on her. To think that his attack lasted only a couple of seconds… Toriel shook her head. He must have been a very hateful human.

 _A hateful human that could take down a boss monster in seconds was in the Underground_.

Toriel realized how drastic the situation was. This was no time to rest and recover and daydream. She put the plate down on the table and jumped out of bed – rather regrettably; her heels hit throbbed with pain at her sudden movement. Steadying herself on the table, she stood up and slowly walked out of the room.

She had to hold the wall to stay on her feet. With a hand on the wall, she slowly walked to the living room. She was very, very reluctant to go to the living room, because if she were right about who her savior was, then he’d probably be waiting for her at the table.

No, she had to face this now. The fate of the Underground depended on it. Her personal feeling for it was a side note.

One step. Two steps. Deep breath.

She walked through the doorway and into the living room.

She was dumbstruck. He was sitting at the table, hands clasped and staring into the wood as if spaced out. He held this position for one more second before he realized she was standing there. Quickly, he stood up, holding his hands up to calm her down before she even reacted, like a preemptive strike.

The feeling in her legs were gone. She had to use two hands to steady herself now, cold hands firmly grasping the corner of the wall. Why was he here? _How_ was he here?

Toriel trembled where she stood, at the sight of the man before her.

The human. The human was in her home.

And he saved her life.

* * *

“That is not how you do it,” the child said to the Doom Slayer, who was tirelessly applying _little tiny band-aids_ to cover up _a super-shotgun wound_.

He snapped at them, neck turning at sonic speed to face them. _Then fucking enlighten me, brat_.

“One band-aid per wound,” they replied, ignoring the Slayer’s mental curse. “It sounds ridiculous, but that is how it is in the Underground.”

The Slayer sighed a heavy sigh, and removed a band-aid from the dusty crater in the unconscious goat-woman’s chest. He then reapplied it to the bridge of her nose – her snout? The terminology escaped him, but all he knew was he landed a left hook square on her face, so that was an important place to bandage up.

After that, he looked at the child, partly because he wanted to know if that was right, and partly because he did not know the next course of action.

“Good,” the child reassured. “But there is more,” they added. “The gun you used, it shoots more than one bullet, correct?”

 _Pellet_ , the Slayer thought, _not bullet_. _And yeah, about twenty of them at once_.

“Then there is more than one wound inflicted from one shot,” the child said, “yes?”

 _Obviously_.

The Slayer looked for more entry points on his impromptu patient. It was a bit hard, and would have been made easier if she bled actual blood instead of dust. He noticed a few stray pellets got into her left shoulder, her right arm, and even a bit in her gut. It was a wonder how she survived, if she was truly not some kind of demon.

He applied a band-aid for every one of them. As a marine, he was taught some basic first aid and field surgery. Using band-aids and food was a bit of a new experience for him, but he did it all the same.

Already, the goat-woman seemed to be recovering, but she was still unconscious. He looked once more at the child.

“That is all you can do for now,” the child stated, stoic as ever. “When she wakes up, she must eat to recover further.”

The Slayer looked back at the patient, thinking about how to ensure she will eat.

“If she wakes up,” the child added.

He looked back at the child, glaring at them intensely.

The Slayer stood up and walked towards the table in the room. It was being used as a desk, it seemed. He closed an open journal, and stacked it with a small notebook. He also pushed the lamp to the side, to make space for other things. Then, he lifted the table up, and brought it closer to the bed.

That should come in handy later. He walked out of the room, the child no doubt following him. He made his way back to the living room, then entered the kitchen. He opened up cupboards at random, until he found an empty glass. Perfect.

He took the glass and brought it to the bedroom. He got out the “Emergency Snail Juice” from the first aid kit, and opened it up.

It didn’t smell good. But it didn’t smell that bad either – although, that might just be the Slayer’s fortitude. Hell doesn’t really smell like fresh air, so he’s grown accustomed to strange smells. Still, the ‘potion’ didn’t smell like anything he’s ever encountered before.

He poured it out into the glass, and grimaced ever so slightly at the sight of the thick, _thick_ concoction spilling out into the bottle very slowly. He put the glass on the table near the woman, and then closed the bottle and put it right next to the glass.

“That should be it,” the child said, not even waiting for the Slayer to ask anymore.

 _Didn’t ask_.

The Slayer walked out again, and went straight to the kitchen. Food heals in this place, right? He opened the fridge and rummaged through it. It was mostly ingredients – or that’s what it seemed like, as there was a Tupperware with snails inside – though he did find two things that seemed ready to eat: a slice of pie, and an unopened chocolate bar. He took both out, closed the fridge, and turned around.

The child was uncomfortably close to him. With blood red eyes that cut into him and a still emotionless expression, they said rather ominously, “The chocolate.”

Nothing.

“It’s mine.”

Silence.

“Put it back.”

After a staring contest with the child, the Slayer sighed exasperatedly, turned around, and put the chocolate back in the fridge where he found it. He turned around again and was pleasantly surprised – and simultaneously _creeped the hell out_ – to see the child smiling as they looked up at him.

“Thank you,” they said, eyes wide and smile wider.

He only nodded in response, and took the pie to the bedroom.

Having placed the plate of pie on the table, it seemed like the Slayer’s job was done. He took a seat on the writing chair, and considered his next plan of action.

Abruptly, the child walked up to him and sat on his lap, facing away from the Slayer and towards the woman in the bed. Strange, but not anything worth complaining about. The Slayer continued his train of thought what to do next.

“You can’t just leave, you know,” the child said, breaking the silence. Their face was back to normal by now; their smile and chipper voice was gone.

There they go again, reading his mind.

“The exit is sealed with magic, only she can open it.”

The Slayer frowned at this fact. _Now what?_

It was quiet again for a good ten seconds.

“The pie is cold,” the child commented.

The Slayer gently took the child off his lap and stood up. Taking the pie, he went back to the kitchen.

* * *

The Slayer returned to the bedroom with a plate of warm pie. The smell of crust and _snails_ was in the air. The oven had no gas, for whatever reason, so he got a little creative with a bottle, a bullet, and a small energy cell.

He sat again in the writing chair, and again the child sat on his lap. A few minutes passed with nothing happening

_How long will she be unconscious?_

“You beat her quite badly,” the child said quietly. They didn’t answer the question directly, but it was enough to make the Slayer feel awkward about waiting there the entire time.

He stood up, and picked up the child carried them with one arm. Hey, if the soulless ghost-demon-human child was going to follow him, he might as well be nice, right?

The child gave out a strange sound, emanating from their chest. You could only have heard it if you were as close to them as the Slayer was at the time, as it was very soft. It almost sounded like a giggle.

The child wrapped their legs around the Slayer’s waist, and threw her arms around his neck in a manner that wouldn’t have strangled him. They got comfortable clinging to the Slayer’s side that way, leaning on his right arm that he carried them with.

The Slayer walked out once more and closed the door gently behind him, then went to the living room table and let the child down, who gave a noticeable pout. Finally, he took a seat on the one facing the hallway.

All that was left to wait.

* * *

He raised his hands up defensively as soon as he saw her. She looked like she was going to faint.

He slowly, so as to not scare her, got out of the seat, and with one hand took off his helmet.

 _It’s been a long time since I took this off_ , he mentally noted.

She did not seem to change her reaction at all. It looked like that the Slayer had to do that in order to gain her trust.

The Slayer knew he would have to do this eventually, but he was still reluctant about it. But he sucked it up, and looked directly at her.

He cleared his throat, which churned with eons of disuse for anything other then yelling and saying ‘demon’.

It was quiet, and no one moved an inch.

“ **I’m… sorry.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Doom Slayer would make a good husband and father, huh? Also the Slayer speaks in bold letters now.
> 
> Also, Asgore X Toriel 5 EVAH


	5. Getting to Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toriel and Doomguy are formally introduced to each other.

Toriel felt the world spinning, but she held on, clinging to her consciousness for dear life. The man who she knows almost killed her was in her home, and it seemed as though he was also the one who helped her recover. What did he want with her, she wondered.

Toriel’s mind was, for once in a long time, a disorganized mess. A hundred and one scenarios were playing in her head at once. Many of them involved her getting a chainsaw stuck in her neck. A few of them had her running away for her life, but that did not seem likely in her current condition. And one of them, the one she deemed most unlikely, was that the human would apologize, explain the misunderstanding, then try to leave peacefully.

Just then, the man made a movement – slow, as if he were trying to gain the trust of a wild prey animal. His right arm remained in the air, and his left slowly grasped the underside of the back of his helmet. With an audible click and a hiss of air, the helmet disengaged from his armor. Slowly, slowly, he took the helmet off completely, and placed it on the table in front of him. His left hand then joined its brother in the air.

The man had a strong, square jaw, and short brown hair parted neatly to the side. His right eyebrow had a notable scar. His face would’ve been completely normal, had it not been for the aforementioned scar, and those _eyes_.

His eyes were a sharp blue. It was the bluest blue Toriel had ever seen. There didn’t seem to be any shine in them; they seemed hollow, empty. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul – and Toriel could see the human’s soul so very clearly now.

His soul was emanating with power. It beat like the loud drums of bravery, it pumped righteous justice, and it bled pure, unadulterated determination. This man’s soul was a rainbow of traits that mixed together to create a truly awe inspiring aura, one that demanded presence and struck fear in the hearts of all.

Somehow, the sight of his soul made Toriel remember _all_ of her wrongdoings – from her childhood so long ago, to that very second. Every sin she had committed crawled on her back, and a hundred voices told her to repent. Her hands and her feet felt as if they were frozen in ice, and her the pain of her still recovering wounds fired up once more like they were inflicted there and then. Toriel’s legs almost gave out under her from their continued eye contact alone.

It only got worse when he cleared his throat, which gave out a sound similar to an old machine churning to life.

His first spoken word to Toriel would be forever etched into her memory, and she still remembered the feeling well. It _sounded_ like how death _felt_ – she would know. His voice was an entire army marching down to battle, a thousand souls clashing and yelling out for blood. That was what he sounded like. Toriel prepared herself for that feeling again.

The words he spoke now, however, were in stark contrast to his voice, and to what she was expecting.

“ **I’m... sorry.** ”

Toriel felt like _she_ should be the one saying that, not him. But why? He almost killed her, and she had done nothing to him. Did she really want to say sorry to _him_? Or maybe, she wanted to say sorry to the unseen voices, which slowly were becoming louder and more aggressive in their message.

Toriel finally spoke up when it looked like he was going to repeat himself. She did not want to hear him say it again.

“Please,” she managed to get out. “Put the helmet back on.”

He immediately complied, moving very quickly and using both hands to put the helmet back on, clasping it on the back again. He resumed his previous hands-up stance after the helmet was secure.

Already, Toriel felt a weight lifted off her shoulders, though the voices lingered a little longer before altogether disappearing. Once the burning in her wounds and the freezing in her extremities subsided, she took a deep breath.

“Please help me get to my chair,” she said, eyes closed from her focus on staying conscious.

At an alarmingly normal pace, the human went behind the chair, and lifted it effortlessly. He brought it up to Toriel, who didn’t _sit down_ so much as _fall down_ on it. Still effortlessly, he brought the chair and put it back wear it was. He then stood up at a comfortable distance from her, right where she could see him.

A moment of complete silence came, as Toriel gathered herself.

“Who are you, and what do you want from us?”

* * *

_Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to take the helmet off._

The Doom Slayer had not taken his helmet off since he started his one-man war with Hell. Not to eat, not to sleep. It wasn’t like he needed to do any of those things anyway, having left his mortality long ago. In hindsight, it would only seem natural that his face probably got disfigured or started looking demonic. Hell didn’t have many reflective surfaces to speak of, and it dawned on the Slayer that he had no idea what he looked like.

Whatever it was, the woman became even paler when he had removed his helmet. She still looked afraid of him, possibly even more so now. The Slayer couldn’t really blame her, after what he did. He just hoped he would get a chance to explain himself, and hopefully leave the place peacefully. He would just have to execute plan B.

He was reluctant and hesitant to resort to plan B so soon, but the time called for it.

He would have to speak to her, and apologize.

He cleared his throat, which actually hurt a little. It had been so very long since he actually spoke to anyone, that his throat seemed to have forgot that it could do it at all. Back in Hell, demons made pretty bad conversationalists, and the Slayer always remained sane enough to _not_ start talking to himself. He had no time to lose his sanity, after all, what with the bloody crusade and constant influx of demons to kill.

But now he had no other course of action. Opening his mouth, he desperately raked his mind for the words that he intended to tell her. Not only was it hard in an _awkward_ way to apologize after everything he did, but it was _physically_ hard to speak without every other word being ‘demon’.

“ **I’m… sorry,** ” he practically spat out. The woman seemed to flinch at his words, and remained still, her mouth slightly open.

“That did not help,” a familiar voice commented. The Slayer actually forgot the child was there, and was a bit surprised to hear their voice. Then what they said registered in his mind, and he became a little upset.

_Dammit, this isn’t working._ He cleared his throat once more, hoping that if he apologized again, she would react.

The goat-woman immediately raised a shaky hand at the Slayer when she heard his throat rumble a second time.

“Please,” she said, sounding much calmer than she looked. “Put the helmet back on,”

The Slayer was glad to hear that, seeing as how his exposed face only worsened the situation. He put the helmet back on, and pressed the security clamp down on the back of his armor. The vents on the sides and back of the helmet let out a hiss as the helmet pressed out all the air inside, then started letting the air back in through a filter. The HUD booted up, and just like that things were back to normal.

The woman seemed just a tad better off with the Slayer’s face concealed. Still, she looked like she would collapse any second.

“Please help me get to my chair,” she said, eyes closed. Her voice was steady, and if not for her posture, she would have looked very stern.

The Slayer took a fraction of a second to think about how he’ll go about doing that exactly. Certainly, it would seem hostile to walk right up to her, and it would just feel weird to help her walk to the chair like she were a stereotypical grandmother. The most logical thing to do was to take the chair _to her_ , so that’s what he did. He did it slowly, however, trying his absolute hardest to mimic a normal human being’s walking speed.

He picked up the large armchair without making a sound, and continued his ‘normal’ pace with it in his hands. He put it down in front of the goat woman, who immediately crashed into it rather forcefully. He then raised the armchair once more, with the woman already sitting (laying?) on it, and brought it back to the normal place, all at a pace the Slayer deemed ‘normal’.

After putting the chair down gently, the Slayer walked at a comfortable pace – faster than most men run – and stood in a spot where the woman could see him from her chair. The woman seemed to have gotten more comfortable in the big armchair, and was actually sitting on it properly. The Slayer stood patiently, and waited for the woman to say something.

Silence fell upon them. Finally, she took a deep breath.

“Who are you?” she asked, eyes directed at his own through his visor. “And what do you want from us?”

_‘Who are you?_

It was not exactly a question the Slayer was comfortable answering, truth be told. For longer than he wanted to admit, the Slayer had always been just that: the Doom Slayer. The Hell Walker. The Unchained Predator. The Scourge of Hell, yada yada _yada_.

He needed to win her trust, not scare her. Those titles that he wore on his sleeve were not good for that. He needed a _name_.

_My name…_

The demons feared him. That should be obvious by now. He filled them with dread, and his name was only passed in whispers, spreading despair like a plague. But they feared him in more than one way. They feared him like wild animals feared death: it was primitive, and instinctive. But they also feared him like the religious mortals fear their gods or God. They respected him, adored him, and very close to _worshipped_ him for the raw strength and hatred he represented. They built statues in his honor, and they told stories of his battles.

One particular story had risen out of the demonic ranks long ago. It propagated through word of mouth alone, and usually in hush tones. It was still prevalent because it told them _who_ the human in Hell was. Who was the human that took on the hordes of evil alone? Who stormed the Blood Temple ages ago? Who hunted the greatest warriors of Hell like they were prey?

This story came out to answer these questions, and it was so persistent through Hell that the Slayer himself had begun to memorize it by heart. He wouldn’t say it, but it gave him a sort of sick sense of pride to know that he caused such fear and disarray in Hell itself. The story would stay with the Slayer, and in times of battle he would remember it, and would mentally recite it to himself.

**_In the first age, in the first battle, when the shadows first lengthened, one stood._ **

That was a long, long time ago. Several lifetimes ago. He died, and came back a different person. Phobos, Deimos, memories of a life no longer his own. His story was like a shattered mirror – shards of familiar faces falling out of place. In the shards he saw his reflection, but it was distorted. Different. He was not him anymore.

**_Burned by the embers of Armageddon, his soul blistered by the fires of Hell and tainted beyond ascension, he chose the path of perpetual torment._ **

He vowed to never let them rise again. He killed the Mastermind. He killed the Icon. He killed the Mother. They all fell before him, and enough was enough. Blood poured from his eyes, and he cursed the demons of Hell with his promise. A promise to kill every single one of them. A promise he will keep.

**_In his ravenous hatred he will find no peace; and with boiling blood he scours the Umbral Plains seeking vengeance against the dark lords who had wronged him._ **

He can never die. He can never rest. He can never know the afterlife that he deserved. _They_ denied him what was his. Everything wrong in his world – war, greed, suffering – ALL OF IT was because of _them_. _They_ destroyed his world, his life, AND his afterlife. And for that, _he will destroy them_.

**_He wears the crown of the Night Sentinels, and those that taste the bite of his sword named him..._ **

_My name dammit, my name!_

**_The Doom…_ **

“ **Doomguy.** ”

…

“Doomguy?” the woman asked. She squinted, obviously not believing him. He was hiding something.

“Doomguy?” the child asked. They cocked their head to the side, an eyebrow raised at this revelation.

_Doomguy?_ The Slayer thought. _Why didn’t I tell her my name?_

The Slayer asked himself this, but he already knew the answer. The name that the Slayer once used was not his anymore. The name he was _born with_ died with the man he was _born as_ , all those lives ago. Ever since he died and went to Hell, he was no longer that man. When he returned from as the Slayer, he wore that name a little longer, but it never was the same.

May that man rest in peace, for the Slayer never will.

“ **Doomguy,** ” he reiterated. He kept his sorrowful heart under layers of hatred, and the layers of hatred he buried under a calm exterior.

The woman eyed ‘Doomguy’ suspiciously. After another long bout with silence, she spoke up.

“I am Toriel,” she said flatly. “Caretaker of the Ruins.”

Doomguy nodded at her introduction. He would remember that name.

They were both quiet for a moment.

_Okay, now what?_

“Where did you come from?” asked Toriel. “Doomguy,” she added.

“ **Earth,** ” he answered. Well, that wasn’t a lie. He was born and raised there. He’d rather say that than Hell. That would just make him less trustworthy.

Toriel‘s lips parted, and she squinted even harder. Her eyes trained on Doomguy, she inhaled air through her teeth.

“We _are_ on Earth.”

For what felt, and most likely was, an eternity, Doomguy’s heart skipped a beat. _I’m on Earth? I’m home? If I could leave this Underground…_

His logical side roped him back to reality. _Earth of another dimension, dumbass._ Doomguy mentally composed himself, and shooed away any silly thoughts about living a normal life.

“So you’re from the surface,” Toriel corrected. Doomguy nodded again. “Did you climb Mt. Ebbot?”

Doomguy slowly shook his head. He climbed no such mountain. In fact, he ran into a crater – the demonic fortress in Hell that he stormed, where he was transported here, was built in a volcanic crater.

Toriel massaged the bridge of her nose (snout? Doomguy still didn’t know) and sighed heavily.

“Mt. Ebbot is the only way to get here from the surface,” she explained with an exasperated tone. “If you did not come from the mountain…”

Doomguy was already formulating an explanation for his sudden appearance in her domain. How was he going to explain all of… _that_?

“ **Portal.** ”

“A… portal,” Toriel repeated. If Doomguy thought she sounded confused and tired before…

He nodded at Toriel. “ **Demon portal.** ”

Toriel held her hands together and took a deep breath before responding. “A portal… by _demons_.”

“ **From Hell.** ”

Toriel seemed ever so slightly taken aback. “Hell.”

Doomguy nodded again. “ **Fighting demons. Wanted me gone,** ” he said as if it were not alarming that the stranger in Toriel’s house, who had just assaulted her not too long ago, was fighting demons prior to that.

“Let me get this straight,” Toriel replied. She scratched the back of her neck, and continued, “You were fighting… demons… demons _from Hell_ … and they wanted you gone.”

He nodded, adding a grunt for extra confirmation.

“These demons wanted you gone,” Toriel repeated. “And so they sent you here.”

Despite Toriel being the one sitting down and Doomguy being the one standing up, he couldn’t help but feel like he was being interrogated.

“ **Mm.** ”

“With a portal.”

“ **Mm**.”

Toriel nodded, slowly digesting this information. “These demons,” she brought up.

“Did you…” she trailed off. The put her right thumb to her throat, and pulled it across her neck.

Doomguy was a little confused by this question. _Of course_ he killed them. They were _demons_.

“ **Mhm.** ”

Toriel nodded solemnly. “A lot of them?”

Doomguy nodded strongly, head bobbing up and down with gusto. He wasn’t called the Doom Slayer for nothing.

Looking down, Toriel gave a sigh in response. “That explains how much damage you did in so little time…” she mumbled.

Doomguy raised an eyebrow hidden by his visor. Did that mean that he is stronger in the Underground based on his body count?

_That’d make me strong as hell_. He internally cringed at his own accidental pun.

“The demons, I assume,” Toriel said, now facing Doomguy again. “They were bad guys.”

Again, Doomguy was confused by such a silly question. _Of course_ they were ‘bad guys’. _They were demons_.

Toriel nodded again, a little less solemnly. “I hope you were doing the right thing.”

Doomguy did not respond. Was this woman serious? What a bizarre dimension he was sent to, if ‘demon’ was not automatically synonymous with ‘pure evil being’.

“Take a seat,” Toriel said, gesturing to the chair closest to him.

Doomguy nodded, and gently pulled the seat away from the table. He sat down and shifted the seat to face Toriel. Almost immediately, the child ran up to Doomguy and sat on his lap.

Doomguy had half the mind to get the child off of him, but then he realized how strange how that would look to Toriel. She had not even once acknowledged the child in her living room the entire time, and based on Doomguy believing the child to be some kind of apparition, it would seemed like Toriel could not see them at all.

_Just pretend they’re not there_.

The child giggled and turned their head to look at Doomguy. They didn’t say anything, they just looked at him and smiled. After a second or two, they looked back at Toriel, and Doomguy remained composed.

After a brief moment, Toriel, unaware of the child sitting on his lap, addressed Doomguy directly.

“Doomguy, this is the Underground.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doomguy is about to get exposition’d on right now. Poor fellow. And if you were wondering what Chara was doing the entire time Doomguy was still standing, they were sitting comfortably on ‘their’ living room chair.
> 
> I like Chara a lot. I’ll be portraying them in a light based on my headcanon. Sorry if they’re not a MURDER DEMON OF GENOCIDE in this fic.
> 
> While I personally ship Doomguy with someone in this crossover (it’s a secret), it’s going to be low-key and not really touched upon. I’m not going to get Doomguy involved in any romances in this fic (though he will flirt with one or two characters – it’s not Undertale otherwise). Sorry, shippers!
> 
> Thanks for reading and leaving really nice comments/reviews, everyone. It means a lot to me.


	6. History Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doomguy is forced to sit still and listen to backstory.

Toriel fought the urge to faint right there in her seat. This revelation that her ‘house guest’ not only came from Hell, but was sent to the Underground by the demons by a portal was… worrying, to say the least. So it wasn’t just that ‘Doomguy’ had killed many demons – probably thousands of them, for him to reach such strength – and was now here, mistaking monsters for demons and attacking them. It was also _how_ _he got there_.

If demons from Hell could open a portal to send one Doomguy away, what was stopping them from opening a new one to send an _army_? Toriel internally shuddered at the thought alone. There would be absolutely nothing anyone in the Underground could do if demons attacked. But Toriel remained focused on the problem in front of her – not the one that _might_ happen, but the one that was _happening_.

“Take a seat,” she said to him. She pointed to the chair directly beside him, and he immediately pulled it out from the table. He turned it to face her, and sat down. He flinched a little, as if something landed on him abruptly, but just as quickly went back to a formal, if a little stiff, sitting position.

Toriel cleared her throat, getting ready to explain the Underground, which she was sure he had many questions about.

“Doomguy, this is the Underground. You are an adult, and you seem to know well the tragedy of war,” Toriel said solemnly. “I will tell you the story of my people.”

He nodded, leaning in a little. He seemed to be intent on listening.

“Centuries ago, two races ruled the Earth’s surface: humans, and monsters.” She pointed to herself, and continued, “I am a monster, and you are a human.

He nodded again, but otherwise did not budge.

“The two races lived in peace for a long time, but the humans became afraid of the monsters. Very few humans could wield magic, and even fewer were powerful in their use of it. But almost all monsters could use enough magic, and well enough to fight, even. The human kingdoms allied together and fortified their borders with the monster kingdoms, sending a message that the humans would protect themselves from the monsters if they needed to.

“But the fear was not one-sided. Monsters grew to fear humans as well. Even if they were physically weaker and had no magic, the average human had a soul much more powerful than a majority of monsters. They had something that monsters lacked: determination. If a human was determined enough, they could easily destroy any monster – with or without magic. This knowledge, coupled with the fact that the human kingdoms made a pact with each other and sent armed soldiers to every border, made the monsters fear for their lives. The king…”

She became quiet. Bad memories floated freely in her mind, and she had to focus to keep them all back in the dark crevices they came from. Doomguy shifted a little, seemingly hanging to every word Toriel spoke. After a few seconds, she regained composure, and continued her history lesson.

“The monster king wanted to show that they were not afraid of the humans, even if they were. He sent his strongest magic-using monsters to the borders as well, and for decades the kingdoms we at a standstill. The borders were strengthened every year on both sides. Armies were raised and trained to do battle with the other race. The human alliance devoted research and decades of training into developing human magic users, or mages. The monster kingdom acknowledged how outnumbered they were, and instead invested in slowing down any possible attack by mastering the use of magic traps and puzzles.

“Both sides showed no stopping this quiet battle. Tensions everywhere grew, both outside the kingdoms and inside. The monster kingdom’s highest council could tell the humans were preparing to attack. It was obvious they were raising their own magic users, ones that could rival even the monsters in their prowess of the arts. But the monster king refused to declare war, hoping that it would all boil over eventually,” she scoffed.

“It did not boil over. The show-off contest between the races finally reached its tipping point after a hundred years, and ended in the only logical way. The human kings banded together and declared war on the monster kingdom. The human armies pushed forward, and a huge battle ensued. The monster defenses suffered great losses, and they were forced to retreat. The magic traps did a lot to slow down and thin the humans’ numbers, and the magic puzzles did well in slowing down the human commanders in their search for key targets. Ambushes became the standard tactic of battle for the humans, and the monsters countered with other underhanded methods. Honor and chivalry had no more place in war.

“Eventually the traps the monsters laid out were never set off, and the puzzles always solved in no time at all. The human’s had sent their mages to do away with them, and now they had a leg up against the monsters. The monsters had to change their plans drastically, seeing how magic could not be used to obstruct the humans anymore. For one reason or another, the monster king was reluctant to send his armies to outright battle and kill the human soldiers, instead opting to rather try and find a way to slow the inevitable. Unrest in the monster kingdom grew stronger than ever, and rumors arose that the king had struck a secret deal with the humans to spare himself and let the humans conquer them. Others said the king was just a weak-willed man, who refused to have human blood directly on his hands – even if it meant monster dust indirectly on his hands instead.

“It didn’t matter what they thought of the king, because they were losing. They had no choice but to trust him. All the while, the humans were ceaseless in their crusade. With the help of the seven powerful mages, the humans were unstoppable. They pushed the monsters further and further back, into a mountains. When the monsters were forced to the farthest reaches of the unforgiving Mt. Ebbot, the human alliance finally offered the monsters a deal.

“It was completely in their favor, of course. The humans wanted the monsters to live _inside_ of Mt. Ebbot, where the humans would no longer fear them. If the monsters agreed, then he humans would vow to never declare war again. The monsters didn’t really have a choice, did they? They agreed. Soldiers, civilians, royalty – all the monsters just packed up and accepted their banishment. It was as if the will to fight was just not there. When all the monsters were exiled into the Underground, seven human mages used every ounce of their magic to create the Barrier around Mt. Ebbot. The seven mages gave up their lives for the Barrier – they used their own souls to construct it. Ever since then, no one can leave the Underground, human or monster.

“The monsters accepted their fate, and tried their best to make the most out of the situation.  They started construction of a new kingdom in the deep caves of Mt. Ebbot. Magic gave light to the dark caverns. A new hope filled the hearts of the monsters, a hope for peace in their new home. In just one generation, the monsters created that home in the Underground. The monster king called their first city in the underground, ‘Home’.”

Toriel looked at Doomguy, who looked no different than he did when she started talking. But even with his face concealed, she could tell he squinted or at least raised an eyebrow at the name of the first permanent settlement in the Underground.

“The king is not so good with names,” she explained. Doomguy nodded as if that was all he needed, signaling Toriel to continue.

 “After Home was constructed, the monsters began mining into the walls of the mountain. They discovered new places in the Underground, and started settling these places. One part was extremely cold, being just under the ice caps of Mt. Ebbot. Using seeds taken with them before they were sealed in, the monsters planted trees, to remind them of the surface. A town was founded in there, named ‘Snowdin’.

“Beyond there was a natural underground river, with fresh water. The monsters were overjoyed to have a drinking water, because they had previously been living on rain water that would fall through the mouth of the mountain. That river and the surrounding area was dubbed ‘Waterfall’, because there was a… waterfall… that led to a much deeper, much hotter place previously unexplored.

“After many years of progress in Home and Snowdin, and mastering agriculture in Waterfall, the monsters finally explored the deepest part of the Underground. The king named it ‘Hotlands’. Just beyond there was a more temperate place, where construction began of a new capital. The royal family had a new home built near the growing capital, and they called it ‘New Home’.”

Toriel realized how ridiculous this must have sounded to Doomguy, so she allowed herself to laugh a little. “I’m serious. New Home, Snowdin, _Hotlands_ for heaven’s sake…”

Toriel was caught off guard when she heard a new sound arise from Doomguy. It was a low and deep sound, and it went up and down in a rhythm similar to Toriel’s own laughing. Was he laughing too?

“ **Is the capital named ‘Capital’, too?** ” Doomguy asked, his voice not as flat as Toriel was just getting used to. That was the longest sentence he had spoken to her, too.

“It is, actually!” Toriel answered, a weak smile on her face. The two shared a little laugh before she continued.

“Everything seemed perfect. The Underground, while not as happy as the surface, offered enough to seem more like a home than a prison. The king and queen even had a child. Things were looking up for the monsters.

“I already said that the Barrier wouldn’t let anyone out. But the monsters found out it could let someone _in_. One day, a human child fell down the mouth of Mt. Ebbot, at the entrance of Home. The monster prince found her, and brought her to his parents in New Home. The royal family adopted her, and loved and raised her like their own. This child raised the spirits of the monsters, and gave them hope of one day reaching the surface. If a human could enter, than that means there had to be a way to leave too, right?

“The human child and the prince were best friends. They played and lived and studied and did all manner of things together. But one day…”

Toriel’s voice quivered, and she prayed that Doomguy did not notice. It was still saddening, even to this day. When monsters hear the story they still feel the pain, the loss.

“One day the child became sick. Very sick. The royal family, the entire Underground – everyone wanted her to overcome the sickness. But she did not. The poor girl’s last wish was to be buried in the garden of golden flowers in her village. Of course, this was impossible. No one could leave the Underground. She passed away, just a child.

“But the prince, in his grief, was determined to fulfill that dying wish. He took the body of his best friend, and _absorbed her soul_. If a monster and a human combine their souls, they become strong enough to pass the Barrier. And that was what he did. No one could stop him, and he passed through. He passed the Barrier, and into the surface.

“The prince took her to the village nearby, and told them what happened. But all the humans saw was a monster holding a dead child, advancing to the village. What do you think they did? They attacked, and the poor prince didn’t fight back. ‘Monster!’ ‘Murderer!’ ‘Demon!’”

Toriel noticed that Doomguy clenched his fist at that, but she did not comment. Instead, she went on.

“The prince took the body with him, and returned to the Underground. Just in time to die in his father’s arms. Both children of the king and queen were dead. The whole Underground mourned. The king was enraged, and declared war on the humans. He vowed to kill any human that fell into the mountain.

“And that is when everyone left Home. Being the only entrance from the surface, any fallen human would go through there first. No one wanted that responsibility on their hands, so everyone left. Everyone, but me and the few monsters here. Ever since then, I sealed the passage between Home and the rest of the Underground. Most monsters call this place ‘Ruins’ now.

“The Barrier was sealed with the souls of the seven human mages. But it can be undone with souls as well. The king is a ‘boss monster’, which means he is much more powerful – it’s also how he has been the king since even before the war, if you are wondering. If a boss monster absorbs seven human souls, he can undo the magic of the seven mages and destroy the Barrier.

“Ever since the king’s children died, and he declared war on the humans, six humans have fallen here. They’ve all passed the Ruins, and into my care. They all wanted to go home, and so against my better judgement I let them pass.

“They all died,” Toriel said, looking down. “The king has all their souls now. If you leave this place, the other monsters will attack you on sight.”

“ **I’ll be fine,** ” Doomguy told her.

“I know,” she replied. “But it’s not you I’m worried about.”

Doomguy did not even flinch.

“I’m sorry, but it’s true. It’s _them_ I’m worried about, not you. They will blindly attack you, and you will naturally defend yourself. After what you did to me… I am stronger than most monsters, but you nearly killed me in two strikes.”

Doomguy remained as still as a statue.

Leaning in, Toriel added, “But you _didn’t_ kill me. It would’ve been so easy, but you didn’t. You brought me here, and fixed me.”

Doomguy sounded and looked like a sci-fi themed piece of furniture, the kind you see in the movies when the protagonist visits his surprisingly rich nerd friend. That is to say, he did not move.

“ _Why_?”

* * *

“You are an adult, and you seem to know well the tragedy of war,” Toriel told him. “I will tell you the story of my people.”

_Aw, crap. I didn’t ask for a history lesson._

The child giggled softly at Doomguy’s inward comment. Unfortunately, Doomguy did not see the humor in it himself.

He gritted his teeth and physically fought the need to tap his foot or clench his fists. Now was really not the time for backstories, considering how the demons were most likely recuperating in his absence. Building armies, tempting weak willed mortals, invading new worlds, killing innocents…

But he needed to win Toriel over. He would have to just sit it out and listen. Maybe if he tricked himself into thinking he was interested, time would pass faster.

…

Doomguy found himself giving his full attention to Toriel’s story. To find out about an otherwise undiscovered species of sentient non-humans living underground was one thing, but to hear their history of battle with real kingdoms was another.

_You’d think they’d write that down in the history books._

He then internally slapped himself at his own stupidity.

_Another dimension, remember? Idiot._

“Magic gave light to the dark caverns,” Toriel continued, completely unaware of her audience’s thoughts. “A new hope filled the hearts of the monsters, a hope for peace in their new home. In just one generation, the monsters created that home in the Underground. The monster king called their first city in the underground, ‘Home’.”

_Home? Just Home?_

It certainly didn’t take a mind reader to tell that Doomguy was questioning the silly name. After a brief pause, Toriel added, “The king is not so good with names.”

_Evidently._

…

Toriel let out a small chuckle, which Doomguy had not her from her yet. In fact, he had not heard genuine laughter in eons, even in the form of soft chuckles. The Underground was definitely different from Hell in many ways, and this was one of them.

“I’m serious,” she said. “New Home, Snowdin, _Hotlands_ for heaven’s sake…”

And then, Doomguy heard something he hadn’t heard in an even longer time: a sound he made himself. _He laughed back_.

“ **Is the capital named ‘Capital’, too?** ” he said without realizing. Oh, so he was making jokes now.

“It is, actually!” Toriel replied, a small smile forming on her healing lips. The two shared a moment of laughter at the expense of the king, who ever that would be. But even in this moment, Doomguy’s heart hardened.

He didn’t show it – he didn’t even actively _think_ it – but deep in his subconscious, he knew. He was already beginning to feel human again.

And he regarded that as weakness. What kind of normal human being can survive Hell, let alone destroy it?

Once this was all over, he would have to forget how to laugh all over again.

…

“She passed away, just a child,” Toriel said.

Doomguy felt his soul sink a little. It had been a long, long time since he was sad, and this story seemed to be doing the trick. But more than just sadness, Doomguy felt curiosity. His eyes flicked over to the child sitting on his lap, and tried to get a reaction from them without alerting Toriel.

The child seemed to refuse to look at Doomguy, instead looking straight at Toriel. Or rather, through her. There was something about their stillness and lack of giggling or acknowledging him during the sad story of the fallen child that created questions that answered themselves.

Toriel continued talking, but Doomguy couldn’t really hear her. He focused instead on the child. He was slowly learning who this child was, but he needed to know more before deeming them anything other than an enemy.

_Are you a demon?_

No response.

_Do you work for the demons?_

No response. And then…

“No,” the child said, their voice flat like before.

_Are you the fallen child?_

Their silence was deafening, but it was enough to answer the question.

He did not push any further. Doomguy knew better than anyone that one’s own death is a touchy matter. He knew all he need to know about the child anyway.

They’re not a demon, and they’re a _she_.

…

“But you _didn’t_ kill me,” Toriel stated with a voice that betrayed her confusion. “It would’ve been so easy, but you didn’t. You brought me here, and fixed me.”

The moment of truth was at hand. It had to be now that Doomguy would prove he wouldn’t hurt the other monsters, win Toriel’s trust, and be released from the Ruins. He just needed to be honest.

“ _Why_?”

He cleared his throat, which was getting more accustomed to being cleared.

“ **You said sorry.** ”

Silence filled the room. The whole house, even.

“… I did?”

He nodded. “ **Not at me.** ”

“I… then who?” Toriel asked, more at herself than to Doomguy.

 “ **When you get really, really close to dying,** ” Doomguy explained, “ **you see people. Friends, family, people who owed something to. People you can never pay back. And you know you’re going to die, and you know you can’t pay them back anymore.**

Doomguy spoke from experience.

“ **People see them, and bad people get scared. They’re bad, they think everyone is bad like them, they think the people they owe are there for vengeance. They get scared. The good people see them, they get scared too. But more than fear, they feel remorse. They apologize.**

“ **You apologized. I won’t ask to who, or for what. But you’re good. I don’t want to hurt good people.** ”

Already, Doomguy’s throat was burning. He was out of breath – which didn’t even happen when he sprinted for hours straight through the plains of Hell – and he was swallowing his own spit over and over to try and cool down his dry mouth and course throat.

Meanwhile, Toriel was slowly comprehending what Doomguy was saying. Hopefully she believed him, especially the part about not hurting good people.

“I see,” she said, putting a hand on her head to massage a temple. “This talk of death is making me feel awful, though.”

Doomguy nodded in agreement. He too felt awful now, although that was more from talking at all than the topic of their conversation. The child on his lap finally hopped off and onto the floor, and walked to Doomguy’s side to pat his helmet, as if to help him recover from speaking too much.

“Doomguy, could you please get me a glass of water?” Toriel smiled a little and looked at Doomguy when asking this favor.

The child immediately whispered something into the helmet’s earpiece.

“She’s trying to trick you.”

* * *

Doomguy stood up and went into the kitchen, none the wiser. Toriel felt bad for lying to him, but it had to be done. No matter how good Doomguy was, _someone_ was going to die if he is released from the Ruins. Either he dies to the king, or he kills the king – and maybe others. How does Toriel know if he was telling the truth? For all she knew he was lying to get her to open the Ruins gate for him, somehow knowing that only she could open it.

Toriel had already been thinking up this plan since she sat down. Her legs were already feeling better after Doomguy’s treatment, and she was sure she could use them again if she focused. She just needed him to get distracted. As soon as he entered the kitchen, Toriel shot up as if uninjured, and rushed to the hallway. Taking the stairs down, she quickly ran to the Ruins gate, hands glowing with fire.

I’m sorry Doomguy, thought Toriel, and you kill me for this, but I don’t want any more deaths, no matter who.

Toriel felt a bead of sweat form on her forehead. Her whole body, still a little sore from the beating, tensed up. She could feel an aura behind her, which she already felt once today. The aura of a killer.

He was very fast if he already caught up with her.

“I’m the only one who can open this gate,” Toriel said to the man standing behind her. “If you kill me now, you will be trapped here.”

There was no response.

Hands, still ablaze with fireballs, Toriel turned around to face Doomguy, who was unarmed but maintained a fighting stance.

“For you to leave the Underground you need a monster’s soul. The king’s soul. If you kill him the monsters will spiral into anarchy and lose hope.”

Doomguy remained still, staring into Toriel through his visor.

* * *

 

Doomguy walked into the kitchen holding the child’s hand, but did not get a glass of water. Waiting one second, he went back to the living room to find Toriel’s chair empty.

_Goddammit goddammit goddammit—_

Breaking into a sprint, Doomguy broke into the hallway. The child, who he was sure he left in the kitchen, was now standing there in the allway, pointing at the stairs leading down.

Vaulting over the handrails, he jumped down and continued running, following the halls until he finally saw Toriel facing a large door, palms ready with fireballs. As if knowing that he had caught up with her, Toriel began to speak.

“I’m the only one who can open this gate,” Toriel said without turning to face him. “If you kill me now, you will be trapped here.”

_I won’t kill them._

She turned around, hands still on fire, before continuing. “For you to leave the Underground you need a monster’s soul. The king’s soul. If you kill him the monsters will spiral into anarchy and lose hope.”

_I won’t kill anyone._

“I know you won’t stay here willingly. It’d be so easy for you to kill me.”

_I won’t kill you._

“But there’s only one way to settle this. One of us dies, here and now, but you will never leave this place.”

 _No_.

Just then, Doomguy’s soul burst out of his chest and floated in front of him. Still as blood-red as ever, it thrummed with determination.

Toriel seemed to weaken at the mere sight of his soul, but she remained strong.

 _I’m not killing you_.

Toriel closed her eyes to focus, then opened them up for battle. She was still feeling the wounds, Doomguy could tell, but that didn’t seem to stop her.

“Fight me.”

The world around the two began to darken, and Doomguy’s senses heightened to the point that he could feel and hear _everything_.

The child stood behind Doomguy, and uttered one sentence as the heat of battle began to fire up.

“Toriel blocks the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue metal remix of Heartache.
> 
> Thanks for reading this, and sorry for not updating sooner. Please leave reviews, they brighten my day every time.


	7. Heartbreaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere and sometime on Phobos, a ghost fights demons.

The skin burned off his bones, swiftly yet painfully. As he screamed, the world around him became so bright the he didn’t eyes to see. In fact, his eyes melted out of his sockets, the flames passing through his helmet like it was nothing. His armor was off no use, and his bones turned to dust just as quickly as his skin and flesh turned to ash. All the while, he was screaming. Even as his vocal chords were welded shut, he did not stop screaming. When he was reduced to thin air, he still screamed. In a flash, he was nothing.

And just as rapidly as he had been vaporized, his skeleton formed once again. His muscles, flesh, and every ounce of his blood haphazardly collided back into his form, followed by his armor and helmet. He was alive again, in a different place. He did not stop screaming.

_I fucking hate teleporters!_

Disembodied voices whispered in tongues to him as he tried to get a hold of himself. It was not the first time he used a teleporter on the Phobos facility, but it was never like that before. Removing his helmet to free his mouth, he quickly emptied his stomach of whatever contents it still held. Bent over his refuse, he shook off the voices and the faint burning sensation from his entire being. He observed the place he was now in to see an empty cramped room completely walled off of any exits. The plain brick walls were bare, except the one directly in front of him, as it had a single switch in the middle.

Composing himself, he pulled his shotgun out from its sling, and readied it. He took a breath, and pressed the switch.

The wall it was placed on pulled up like a door, revealing a room below connected by a stairwell. The room below, which was circular and bigger than the room he was in, had an open pit of toxic waste in the center. This pit was surrounded by several barrels of the same toxic waste. He always wondered why there was so much toxic waste laying around the entire facility.

But barrels weren’t the only thing surrounding the pit. Lumbering beasts, hunched over from their perpetual feeding stance, wandered aimlessly. But as the wall lowered, the demons noticed the presence of the mortal there. Each giving out a roar, they charged at him. Thinking fast, he took aim at the nearest barrel and pulled the trigger.

Several deafening _boom_ s went off, accompanied by the sickening wet cracks and pops of Pinky demons (as he was becoming fond of calling them) blowing up. Feeling the explosions tinge the hairs on his arms, he pulled away to safety. The room below just received a new paintjob of a bold crimson hue.

A single Pinky somehow survived the toxic explosion, and staggered towards him. Its back was completely open now, and it left a trail of blood in its path. Still determined to kill its prey, it managed to climb up the stairs, but, alas, collapsed at his feet from its wounds. It let out a pathetic growl as he aimed the barrel at its head.

With a squeeze of the trigger, the demon’s cranium was no more, ending the unholy animal’s suffering. Giving the shotgun a cock, he went down the stairs into the lower room and observed his surroundings. If he had any food left in his stomach, he would have vomited again.

He took note of an open elevator opposite the first room, and rode it up to find some ammunition and an automap. How convenient! He read the map and saw the peculiar layout of the “Phobos Anomaly”, which, before the invasion, was dedicated to studying the anomalous effects of teleportation.

He rode the elevator down again and went further down a longer staircase on his right. He went down and opened the door, and immediately was assaulted by two more Pinky demons.

He made short work of closer one using the chainsaw, and tore it almost completely in half. He got blindsided, however, and was shoved off his feet by the second one. Crawling away on his elbows, he let loose the chaingun on his attacker, six barrels spinning up to spit out hot red leaden death. Chunks of the unfortunate Pinky flew off of its body in rapid succession, until the beast was no more than a fountain of blood. He got up once more, and retrieved his chainsaw from the corpse of the first Pinky.

He leaned against a wall and applied a medkit on his wounds. His body had all kinds of scars now, and he received more in this single day than he ever did in his entire career at the US Marines. He patched up a bloody calf, and continued without even limping.

At the end of the long hallway was another elevator, which he promptly rode up. Before him now was a walled up room that was quite large, and unusual in structure. He opened up the automap once more, and observed the room from a birds-eye view. The readout described the room as the viewing deck, where scientists would observe teleportation experiments below. However, that could not be possible now as the room had no windows to speak of. And the room itself was built in a… unorthodox way.

It was a pentagram.

_What the hell were they building here?_

He put the device away and readied his chaingun. Whatever was up with this place, he did not like it.

He took one step forward, and as if on cue, two doors before him opened to reveal two unfamiliar demons.

Their skin was red like raw meat, and their hides seemed very thick. Their bodies were covered in thick, massive muscles, and their legs were covered in green fur, ending in cloven hooves. Their heads were both large as well – each looked like they could bite him in half down the waist. Their faces were twisted into blood-stained snouts like goats, but not nearly as soft or fuzzy. Huge horns adorned their skulls.

The huge demons, standing at least twice as tall as him, let out simultaneously roars. His knees buckled, and once again he faced certain death. Their big, clawed hands glowed green, immolating into big emerald fireballs. They stomped towards him, eyes red with bloodlust.

He grasped the chaingun tightly. He was afraid, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. He was going to find a way out of this alive, so help him God, and no goat demon (or two) was going to change that.

He stayed determined, and ran to battle.

* * *

“Why?” she cried out, lobbing another fireball at him.

The fireball slammed dead center on his chest, earning a pained grunt out of him. Still, he did not move. He did not retaliate.

She put her hands together, and shot a barrage of small fireballs at him. The man made no effort to dodge, instead choosing to become engulfed in flames. He staggered as his soul went ablaze, but he did not falter. He did not give up.

“Why won’t you fight back?” she asked again, slamming a balled fist into the ground. A shockwave of pure magic went forward, which would have cut him in half if he were not so determined to live.

Instead it phased through him, causing his soul to beat harder and his physical body ache harder. He dropped to one knee, but quickly steadied himself and got back up.

He did not fight back. He simply stared down at his assailant.

“It would be so easy,” she said. She clapped her flaming hands together and created a wave of fire expanding out to her target. “In three strikes I’d be dead.”

The wave of fire collided dead center with the target, sending him reeling back two steps. But two steps was all he was going to give. He was incorruptible.

“Fight me!” Toriel shouted.

“ **No,** ” Doomguy answered.

* * *

“Toriel is preparing to attack you again,” the child said to Doomguy. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor a safe distance away, but still near enough to be beside him.

_Oh, thanks for your input. Totally couldn’t see that._

Doomguy tanked two direct hits to his chest. His chest stung something mighty, but he otherwise ignored it.

“You might want to dodge the next attack.”

_Gee. Thanks for the heads up._

The ground beneath Doomguy cracked open, and flames erupted from below. Doomguy’s skin boiled, but it was pretty tame compared to what he was used to.

“I suggest you fight back. It’s beginning to actually hurt you.”

_Oh, kid, what would I do without you? How did I survive literal eons in Hell without your constant insights and pro-tips? How do you think I should go about fighting her, shooting her till she dies?_

Doomguy’s soul received a beating from three homing fireballs. They hit in quick succession, striking directly at the fabric of his being.

“Yes.”

_Shut up!_

“Why!” Toriel yelled between attacks. “Why! Won’t! You! Fight! Back!” With every yell she unleashed a new attack on Doomguy. The earth shattered, the ground shook, and the world burned.

But he did not falter.

“I would like to know that as well,” the child said, still seated on the floor near Doomguy.

Doomguy did not answer the question, not even internally. But the answer was clear to him, in his own mind. He was going to prove to Toriel that he would not hurt anyone beyond the gate to the Underground. Even if they attack him. Even if it would be easy to destroy them.

He was determined to see this through.

* * *

Blood leaked out of his abdomen like he had sprung a pipe. He tried to get up, but his legs were not responding. Looking down he confirmed that his legs were still there, but he couldn’t feel them. He couldn’t feel anything, actually, except pain. Lots and lots of pain.

One of the huge goat demons barreled towards him while roaring up. He managed to roll to safety just in time, as a cloven hoof came down hard on the spot where his head just was.

The thought of what might’ve happened to him if he had not rolled away in time seemed like enough to shake his legs back to consciousness. Pulling out his shotgun with one hand, he made one more roll away to dodge a green fireball from the other demon in the pair. He got to his feet, and started unloading on the nearer of the brothers.

As he fired away, he stayed on the move, strafing in a circle to avoid attacks and close in on his target. The demon closer to him staggered, but tried to power through the blasts. But the closer it got, the more it hurt the large monster.

Just when the man was within arm’s reach, the demon immediately realized it was played for a fool. The mortal had circled back to where he was struck down, and now could retrieve his chaingun. He reached down and immediately started firing on the reckless beast. Its flesh tore apart and green blood gushed out from every perforation it was receiving.

While he was wasting the closer demon, he began firing on the farther one with his shotgun, using only recoil to help him cock it in his one-armed attack. The demon tried to strafe around, but the constant blasts were too much. It too began to stagger just like its brother before it.

Speaking of, its brother was already dead. It had been reduced to a pile of flesh, guts, and green gore. Now he could focus all his firepower of the remaining one.

The demon was smart though. It managed to get behind cover, hiding from the double hail of shotgun and bullets. He ran to where it was, hoping to ambush it, but he quickly became the ambushed. The demon, despite its size, jumped into the air and dropped down on him, slamming into the floor a few mere inches away from his body. Had it landed directly on him, he would’ve been very dead.

Still, the ground shook from the slam of the demon crashing down. He fell over, dropping both his shotgun and chaingun, and hit the ground hard. Taking no time to regain his senses, he started crawling away while getting back on his feet. The demon was so close now, that if he reached out he could grab his head. His crawl quickly became an all-four scramble, then it became a run into the opposite direction.

He was afraid. The demon was faster than him, bigger than him, and stronger than him. This could very well be the end.

He continued running and shook those ideas from his head. If he died now, the world would suffer for it. He couldn’t die. He wouldn’t die.

He won’t die.

* * *

He just won’t die!

Toriel was beginning to lose stamina from her onslaught. The man before her had survived attacks that individually would’ve killed a small retinue of normal soldiers. Ah, but he was obviously no normal soldier. He had seen Hell, and fought openly with it. As Toriel panted she considered her options.

It was obvious that he wouldn’t fight her now. If he was going to fight her now, he would’ve done it as soon as he got there. And if he did, she wouldn’t be alive right now.

But she could not let him out either. If he went out there, someone had to die. Even if he kept his promise to not hurt other monsters, he’d eventually have to face the king. And it was obvious to Toriel who would win that scuffle.

The fate of the Underground hung in the balance. She wasn’t going to change his mind, and he wasn’t going to change hers.

She had to kill him.

“ **I won’t fight you,** ” Doomguy said. “ **Won’t hurt good people.** ”

“I’m attacking you,” Toriel answered. “I’m hurting you. Why won’t you defend yourself?”

“ **I promised.** ”

Toriel swallowed a little spit. A bead of nervous sweat rolled down her face at the prospect of striking down a man who won’t fight back.

Shaking away any guilt that was forming, she clasped her hands together and focused.

* * *

“She is readying a large fireball,” the child told Doomguy. A ball of magic formed between Toriel’s hands, and it began to expand.

He did not acknowledge the child, but he could see it himself. The fireball had grown large enough to rival a Baron of Hell’s own. Memories of dodging and running such attacks from those big monsters attempted to cloud his mind, but he was not distracted.

“Dodge it.”

_No._

“I was not asking,” the child said, her tone unchanging but her words more defiant. “I do not want you dead.”

Doomguy did not take the time to appreciate the small plea from the child beside him. Instead, he bore into Toriel’s soul with his eyes.

Toriel let out a yell as she launched the big fireball, which was roughly the size of Doomguy’s torso, at him. It collided with his helmet, and with a loud _THUNK_ and several burning, crackling sounds, Doomguy was knocked off his feet, slamming into the ground behind him. The world turned white and faded away.

* * *

Toriel readied two more fireballs, one in each hand, as she waited for Doomguy to recover.

A second passed. He was still not getting up.

Another. His soul, shaped like a heart, had stopped beating.

One more. No change. The faint red glow of Doomguy’s soul dimmed.

The flames in her hands simmered down as what she had just done dawned on her. Her hands went up to her face, and she covered to mouth to stifle a gasp. Her whole body shook with terror, and tears welled up in her eyes.

Did I really? she thought. Did I… he wasn’t even retaliating. How could I?

Just then, with a groan, Doomguy’s body began to move. Toriel did not reenter her battle stance, but she just watched as Doomguy slowly got on his feet.

Toriel immediately noticed that his helmet was off. It must have popped off his head when the fireball hit him, she thought.

But as Doomguy slowly got up, a new kind of fear spread through her body like a plague.

Fear of retribution.

He finally stood where he was before being knocked down, and continued looking at Toriel. Tearing shreds into her with nothing but his eyes.

 _Those clear, blue eyes_.

A different kind of shadow blanketed reality as Doomguy stared into her. Not the kind of darkness that covered the room as two souls entered battle, but a shadow. It took a moment, but Toriel soon realized that this was Doomguy’s own shadow, stretching out from under him, expanding until it encompassed the whole room. It might have even been the entire house, or maybe the entire Underground. No, Toriel was sure now. His shadow covered the entire world. No place was safe from him. 

All the while his eyes remained steadfast on her. Toriel couldn’t move, and the surrounding did not shift either. Had time stopped, and she somehow remained conscious? Did _he_ will time to stop? Was she actually dreaming? Or maybe…

Had she died, and was he dragging her to Hell?

He took one step towards her.

Toriel did not want to fight anymore. In her heart, she knew she deserved this. She tried to kill him, a man who wanted to leave peacefully. But she wouldn’t let him. She tried to kill him. She was no better than the humans and their war.

He took another step forward. Toriel closed her eyes, and accepted her fate.

Another step.

One more.

And then… one more? She should be dead by now. She opened her eyes to see that Doomguy was no longer in front of her. Confused, relieved, and afraid all at the same time, her knees finally buckled under her weight, and the weight of her sins on her back.

She turned her head, still kneeling, and saw that Doomguy was behind her, and walking towards the huge stone gate to the rest of the Undergound. He had walked right past her when her eyes were closed.

“What are you…”

“ **I won’t hurt you,** ” Doomguy said, still walking towards the gate. He placed two hands on the gate, one on each end.

“ **But you…** ” he continued, his words becoming half-grunts as he strained himself. His fingers found their way through the air-tight space between the two slabs down the middle. He started to pull. “ **Won’t…** ”

Toriel stood up and turned to him. She wanted to stop him, but she knew she couldn’t she could only hope the magic was strong enough to withstand him. “ **Keep me here…** ”

Doomguy’s started pulling the gate open. Slowly, but surely, the huge enchanted stone slabs began to part, the strands of magic between them trying to keep them together in a futile attempt to stay closed.

But he was stronger.

Unbreakable, incorruptible, unyielding.

* * *

The massive demon screamed in agony as his insides became outsides. He yanked the chainsaw out of its stomach cavity with a quick sideward motion, dragging its green innards out into the open. It gave a weak swat at his helmet, but it was to no avail. The demon was dying.

He stepped back from it, and watched as it crumpled to the floor, becoming a pile of green gore. Just like its brother.

Just then the walls of the “observation deck” pulled up, to reveal a blood red sky and ruined soil. Phobos was becoming less and less hospitable. He caught his breath, and walked up to his dropped weaponry. Holstering his shotgun and chaingun individually, he jumped out of the anomaly and into the barren ground below.

He walked up a new set of stairs, and found a new teleporter. However, this one was engraved with a pentagram and a design similar to a goat skull.

Actually, the skull engraving was more than that. It felt… alive. Like the hollow eyes stared into him, reading him. It was evil, he was sure. This engraving depicted something pure evil, he thought. As he stared into the stone, he could have sworn he saw the goat-like jaws turn up into a _grin_.

 _Fatigue is playing with me_.

He took a deep breath, and prepared for the awful experience of teleportation. After what felt like a long enough time, he stepped on the stone face.

Immediately, he was brought to a dark room, completely void of light. Surprisingly, the standard pain of teleportation was completely absent.

In its place was instead about a dozen imps. As soon as he teleported to the room, he was surrounded. Claws found their way through every inch of his body – his arms, his abdomen, his throat. He screamed as his flesh was pierced from every angle. Teeth, claws, and spiked bones ripped him to shreds. Luckily enough, a stray swipe came right across his jugular, killing him rather quickly.

Yes. He was dead.

* * *

The gate let out a pained hiss, as though it were alive, as the magic binding it broke under the Unchained Predator’s sheer strength. As the seal faded, the gate became no more than another rock, easy pulled open by the Hell Walker.

With a Herculean roar, he opened the gate completely, letting in a harsh cold wind. A long stretch of a stone hallway extended beyond the open gate.

He stayed where he was, breathing normally as if the gate was not even an exercise in strength, and looked on. The cold air howled through the empty hall and whipped against him. A fine layer of frost threatened to build on his bare face.

He finally turned around and acknowledged the dumbfounded woman behind him. Looking into her eyes, he spoke from his heart.

“ **Without me, the demons will never stop,** ” he told her, his face straight as he revealed his sacrifice to her.

“You’re going back?” Toriel asked, her frail form nearly breaking at what just happened, and was happening. “To Hell?”

He simply nodded. “ **If they get strong enough, they won’t stop until every world and dimension is theirs,** ”

Toriel looked down at the ground in front of Doomguy. “I’m so, so sorry,”

Raising a hand up at her, he shook his head. “ **You tried to protect your people.** ”

“Please don’t hurt them,” she said, looking back up at him pleadingly.

He nodded again. “ **I’m sorry for hurting you before. And about your gate,** ” he added, motioning at the open doorway he stood in.

“It’s alright,” Toriel replied. “I’m sorry, I need to go,” she said as she turned away and started walking.

As she walked away, Doomguy said his own farewell.

“ **Goodbye, your Majesty.** ”

Toriel stopped dead in her tracks. After a second or two, she ran away, never turning back.

Who else could’ve told their history so well, as if they were there themselves? Who else would feel the way she did for the king given the circumstances. And try as she might have to mask her regret and sadness when she told the story, Doomguy was very good at noticing details.

He was no genius, but he wasn’t an idiot.

With Toriel gone, Doomguy turned again to the open world beyond the defunct gate. He could not waste time now. He had to go.

Something tugged at his sleeve from behind.

“Your helmet,” the child told him.

He looked over his shoulder to see the little girl holding his helmet up to him. She was giving it back now.

He didn’t answer, but he did get the helmet. He didn’t really need it here, but he did feel a little naked without it. He looked at the helmet in his hands for any damage.

 _Clean as a whistle_.

He put it on, expert hands latching it behind his neck, under the armor. He looked back and offered his hand to the child.

After a second of looking at him, the child wordlessly took his hand and held it, holding her arm up reach it.

Together, they walked into the dark halls.

* * *

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

He screamed and cursed and flailed as he struggled to get to his feet. He was laying on the cold steel floor, covered in blood. His blood.

“Fuck’s sake! Christ!”

As he said that, he looked up and saw in front of him a huge upside down crucifix, blood red and glowing down the hall. He would’ve found it ironic, if he wasn’t solely focused on the fact _that he just died_.

“What the fuck!”

He died. _He died_. He survived the anomaly, killed the badass demons, and was promptly rewarded with a room full of angry, angry imps. What the hell, he deserved _better_.

He looked around after getting his mind together, and made sure all his organs were where they were supposed to be. The smell of rotten meat was heavy in the air.

Observing his surrounding, he soon realized that he somehow teleported to the Deimos base, which vanished off the face of the moon when the invasion started. There was no computer terminal near so he wasn’t sure, but it had to be. Outside, the sky was even redder, and the soil was even more ruined than on Phobos.

He stopped questioning it. Why fuss over it? He was dead, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting a message to Earth, to save them.

His hand reached out for his shotgun, but it wasn’t there. Neither was his chaingun, or the chainsaw. All he could find was his pistol.

 _I must be in Hell_.

Fuck, it didn’t matter right? He readied his pistol and went forward, determined to get out of the place in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be update last Saturday, but then school stuff happened. I haven’t been online since then, so I finished this immediately. I hope you like it! Keep leaving them sweet, sweet reviews.
> 
> EDIT: fixed a continuity error in order to match the ending here with the beginning of chapter 9


	8. Epsilon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A girl makes a new friend.

Falling, falling, falling.

She still remembered, fresh in her mind, that feeling. Hatred. Depression. She gave up, and jumped.

She hated humanity, and humanity hated her. Humanity pushed her to the brink of despair and beyond, and she jumped.

But life wasn't done toying with her yet. She lived, in some sort of ironic miracle. She met him, and they adopted her. They raised her like their own. For once, she felt love.

But they weren't happy. They were suffering, because of them. The humans wronged them, just as they wronged her.

She smiled. She laughed. She pretended everything was okay. But it wasn't really. As she grew with him she confided in him. She told him the truth.

She was filled with hate. She made a plan, together with him. They would be heroes. They would free their family, their people. The humans who sinned against them would know justice.

They did it together. She finally did what she tried to do all those years ago. She took the buttercups and give her soul up to him. He took it, absorbed it, and walked into the surface, through the magic.

It was the first time he had ever seen natural light.

As one, they entered the village. She grew up there. She hated it there. She raised their shared body against them and attacked with all her determination.

The blows did not land.

He was holding her back.

She was betrayed. Her brother, who she loved. Her partner. She reasoned out to him, reminded him what they did to his people. He didn't listen. The humans who they – who she hated attacked. And attacked. And attacked.

He controlled their body, and went back home. Revenge was so close but he denied her that. He denied her, his family, and his kingdom their justice.

And so when their body crumbled, and their souls were no longer intertwined, and she drifted off into the deep black void of death illuminated only by the bed of golden flowers that buried her, she had only one feeling in her heart.

Hatred.

And even in death, and in the limbo, her hatred was the strongest in all the little world she knew. None could match her hatred of the evil that they all inflicted on her, none could rival her determination of justice against these people.

Not until that man came.

For an eternity she rested in unrest, until a gate opened between the worlds and he fell onto her garden.

The strength of his soul was unlike any other. Human or otherwise – not even her own soul, prized for its determination – no soul could even come close. It had determination, like any other surface dweller, but the sheer power! His soul was ablaze with the same determination for undoing evil, the same hatred for sin.

She knew then. He was just like her. He would be so much better than her old 'partner'. The determination in his soul leaked into her grave, and it awakened in her the senses she lost in death. She latched onto him, a mixture of curiosity and kinship. They would hate together, and bring justice upon them together.

They were going to be partners, forever and ever.

* * *

Just after reawakening, she remembered the feeling of betrayal. And then she felt it again, almost as soon as she reawakened. Before her, before her new friend, stood a single golden flower. The flower spoke familiar words, in a familiar voice, in a familiar tone. An old friend.

A traitor.

Neither he nor the flower could see her, but she could see them. She could not talk, or show herself to him. She was too weak. She wanted to warn her new friend, warn him that he couldn't trust the flower. But her voice was not heard. She was simply not there.

She watched in horror as her poor friend, too new to the world, ate up every word the flower told him. Soon he revealed his soul, so strong and powerful, and she watched as a bullet slammed into it.

And she thought that they'd be friends forever. If she were still human, she would've cried.

And yet, her friend stayed standing. His soul seemed even stronger. It was a wonder why she even panicked. She should've known the flower was no match for a soul like his.

And now she gets to watch her new friend tear apart the flower. Goodbye, traitor.

He walked to the flower as it tried to make amends. Pathetic. Her friend pointed at the flower, and laid down his judgement.

" **Demon.** "

That voice. That word. The heavens, if they were there, rumbled at his voice, and the earth split at his word. It filled her with determination, made her feel alive again. Almost.

A fireball came from somewhere, someone. It hit her friend. It hurt him. Who hurt her friend? But she looked and saw the attacker. Someone she knew. Someone she trusted, too. But they were all traitors, weren't they? They would all be crushed into dust.

The flower escaped like the coward it was, and her friend laid the same judgement on his attacker.

" **Demon!** "

His tone was different. It was dripping with hatred and vengeance, just like his soul. The angels wept. Evil crawled into dark corners in fear. It was invigorating.

She watched in awe as the attacker, the goat woman, tried in a futile attempt at talk her way out of death. He came down on her like a wild beast, a gun pulled out of thin air found itself in his hand. The woman was blasted away, and with a barbaric punch she was down.

She watched, now with glee, as her friend pulled out a huge, evil-looking weapon, with sharp teeth and rotating blades. It was like him – wild, murderous, and hungry.

She goat moaned something out. Probably a final plea. It didn't matter, her friend brought his metallic beast down on her.

Except.

Not?

He slammed it into the ground, earning a screeching noise from the dusty earth. He breathed heavily, as if dumbfounded, and put his weapon away. Why? Why why why why—

He picked the woman up, carrying her like a wounded comrade. Why was he doing this? Where was his vengeance? Where?

He started running.

She followed him, but she did not run. She was simply there with him now. His soul was her host, and she was always with him. Although now she was questioning whether that was a good idea, considering how he suddenly abandoned their cause.

He ran, never interfered by the other monsters in the area. They feared him, rightfully so, and did not attack him as he raced across the Underground.

The Underground?

Yes, this place was the Underground. She remembered now. She was slowly re-learning things, like names and feelings.

He ran and ran until he found the goat woman's home. Memory was such an awful thing, she thought. She didn't want to remember how she lived there once. Happy.

But she was forced to remember as her friend barged in and absorbed his surroundings. He seemed confused. He was obviously off put by the clashing of the ruinous exterior and the well-kept interior.

She always found that weird too.

Still carrying his unconscious attacker, he shouldered the nearest door open. More memories flooded into her. She didn't want to remember. She remembered.

He didn't seem to like his view either. Quickly, he walked out and kicked the other door open, and laid her down on the bed. He walked out and started feeling the surroundings with his hands. Peculiar.

She realized now was a good time. She had shaken off her sleep, her death, and could reveal herself to him. She just had to will herself to do it.

Willpower was never a problem with her.

Slowly, she focused on becoming visible. Bit by bit, she became real again. But only to him. Still observing his surroundings, he turned around and finally saw her.

So it was working.

"She will not let you leave," she told him. She was a little surprised at how easily she spoke to him. How the words just formed and immediately left her cold lips. It was almost like she was alive again.

Almost.

He did not move. She could feel burning eyes, somewhere behind the helmet, drilling into her. Eyes looking for answers. Did he see her? Did he see through her? What was she?

She wished she knew too.

"You should have killed her," she added.

He balled his fists. He must have figured it out. Still, he remained motionless. Unthinking, unmoving. Did he suspect her to be a demon as well?

"She did not kill me," she said, meeting his masked gaze directly, "and I am not haunting this house."

He internally cursed. She felt it somehow. Yet he was also thankful that he didn't have to talk to her.

How rude.

"You are the quiet type. That is okay." She tried to smile reassuringly at her last sentence, but her face proved difficult to contort into positive reactions.

No change from his stance, but he changed the question in his eyes.

She did not want to answer this question.

"There is a first aid kit on the big bookshelf," she finally said, practically spitting her words out. She looked away and towards the living room.

If he wanted to waste his time, fine. She was his friend, she wouldn't abandon him, not like other friends.

He immediately walked to the living room. She followed, but as she did before she did so without walking. She was simply there with him.

He took the kit from the shelf and opened it. He did not seem confused at its contents. It seemed he was learning.

He turned around and saw her again. He gripped the tin box tightly as they looked at each other.

"Do you know why I am here?"

He stared at her.

"Your soul interests me."

He pushed past her, his hand putting weight on her shoulder, and walked back to the room.

She was confused. But then she was excited, and even a little happy.

She felt that.

* * *

He rushed to his patient, and began painstakingly operating on his patient with little more than band-aids to utilize. And as determined as he was to heal her this way, determination - believe it or not - could only take him so far.

"That's not how you do it," she said to him bluntly.

His head whipped at her, turning 100% of his attention from his work to her.

_Then fucking enlighten me, brat._

He spoke without speaking, and she heard him. Though he didn't have to be so rude.

"One band-aid per wound," she replied, looking at the first aid kit and its contents sprawled on the bed. "It sounds ridiculous, but that's how it is in the Underground." She turned to face him as she added that.

Following her advice, he worked hard to cover every wound he had savagely given the goat-woman. No complaints escaped his lips, and no thought of resentment ran in his mind. He only focused on the deed he had done, and how he had to fix it.

She did not understand why he wanted to fix this.

After his work had been completed, he still went the extra mile. He moved the table to the side of the bed, like a proper patient's bedside, and prepared the kit's pre-prepared potion on it. She watched silently as he did these unnecessary acts of kindness, until she finally spoke up, hoping to convince him to try to leave.

"That should be it."

_Didn't ask,_ he replied callously. He left again for the kitchen, no doubt in an attempt to find food for his ward. Perhaps she could grow to admire his actions, but now all she felt was a need to leave this place.

He rummaged through the fridge and nononononononono. Something was wrong. She could feel her spirit warp, what was left of her soul begin to fray. Like all that held her together began to loosen, to dissolve, to leave her undone. Hisses of death let loose all around her. He was doing this somehow. He needed to stop.

As he turned, she had seen his crime. He held what was rightfully hers. She didn't like it. He needed to put it back.

She was now face-to-face with him, despite the height difference. They quietly stared at one another, though she still heard the voices of the dead behind her. Getting louder.

"The chocolate. It's mine. Put it back."

As if defiant, he did not budge for a moment. And then, defeated, he turned and placed the chocolate back. Immediately the hisses-turned-screams stopped, and all of her felt like herself. All was right in the world.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. She could feel a smile on her face, and there was a warm feeling in her chest. She liked the feeling.

He nodded, and returned to the bed-ridden homeowner.

"The pie is cold."

He took her off his lap, and grabbed the pie he had just taken from the fridge. Once again, he took to the kitchen.

He put the plate of pie in the microwave, and began pushing buttons to no effect. Though she did not see what he saw exactly, she knew he had just found out the microwave was unplugged, as it had always been. There was no power source near by, so he retrieved the pie and tried his luck with the oven, still to no avail.

"She uses fire magic to cook and bake."

_Shit, I'm lacking in the magic department._

She shrugged. It honestly was not her problem. The warm feeling was gone from her chest, and now all she could feel was a lethargic apathy overcome her again.

He placed both hands on the kitchen counter, considering his options. After a few seconds, he took something out of one of the pouches on his belt. He procured a small metal box, with some sort of ventilation on the sides. After placing it on the counter, he then unholstered one of his weapons - a pistol. He unloaded the clip...

He stopped.

_Magazine._

"What?"

_It's not a clip. It's a magazine._

She was taken aback. How did he know what she was thinking? Has he been reading her mind as well?

_No._

"What...?"

_I'm not reading your mind. Just knew you'd call it a clip._

Through the visor of his helmet, she saw a semblance of a wink. He returned to unloading his 'magazine'.

She did not like being toyed with, but at the same time she was relieved to see a softer side to her new friend, that he was warming up to her enough to joke.

She mulled over what had just happened while he procured a single bullet from the pistol's magazine, and replaced the gun in his holster. He looked through the drawers for something.

_Where's all the knives?_

She smiled softly at his thoughts. "I wish I knew."

He shrugged, and took a flat screwdriver and duct tape instead. He ripped a long strip of tape, placed it on the edge of the counter, then returned the roll. Taking the metal box from the counter, he began undoing the small screws on the edges.

"What are you doing," she asked. She found herself sitting on the counter near his work.

_Cooking with plasma,_ he replied, not looking away from his unscrewing.

"Plasma?"

_Plasma._ With that, the last screw came off, and he opened the box to view the complex wiring underneath.

He took a matte black cylinder from within, carelessly tearing it from its connecting tubes and wires. He observed it shortly before putting it down on the counter, next to the open box and the standing bullet.

"What is this?"

_The box is a plasma cell,_ he thought as he got a glass bottle from a nearby cupboard. _The cylinder is a plasma container._

"Plasma container," she said, more matter-of-factly then curiously.

_Don't try this at home,_ he retorted. He yanked open the cylinder, likely breaking it permanently. He poured its contents into the glass bottle. A thick, blue gel began to slide out of the container and settled at the bottom of the glass.

"Plasma is a state of matter, not... that," she said. She motioned at the gel in the bottle.

_You must have been dead for a really long time. Huge advancements in the utilization of plasma were made before I was even in the Marines._

She thought quietly about that. Just how long had she been dead?

He twirled the glass around like it held wine, as if contemplating something. _Well, either you've been out long, or it's because I'm from another dimension. Maybe physics is different._

With his no other tools, he pulled open the bullet, and poured out the gunpowder into the bottle. She did not comment that bullets are not suppossed to be pulled so easily, instead mentally attributing it to his strength.

"And what dimension would that be?"

He put a thumb over the opening of the bottle, and the gunpowder and gel began to glow from inside the glass. Suddenly, it burst in a bright light, and the contents of the glass were replaced with a bright blow gas.

_Hell._

She didn't say anything about that. Instead she focused on his handiwork.

"How is the bottle holding pure plasma?" she asked. "How is your hand not burning?"

_It's plasma. I don't have to explain shit._

He took the strip of tape, then put the bottle in the oven, where the fuel canister would usually go. Using the tape, he fastened the bottle into the fuel-receiving pipe, turning it into a makeshift fuel source. He closed the fuel compartment and turned to the oven itself, and opened it to see the baking pan.

"Is that safe?"

_Probably._ He turned on the fire, just to check.

Everything went blue for a moment, and had she been alive she would've felt a wave of intense heat encompass the room.

And as quickly as it had come, the blue explosion was gone, leaving no trace it was ever there.

The two were quiet as the pie was reheated in peace.

She sat at her favorite seat at the table. The goat-woman stood at the doorway, looking as if she had seen a ghost. Her friend stood near her, away from the goat. His armed were raised like he was calming a wild animal.

She sat silently and watched.

Her friend made the fist move, bringing his hands to his helmet to unfasten the locks. She leaned in, curious to see his face visage did this hero, this crusader against evil, carry? She did not know what to expect, and with every passing millisecond that he fumbled with the helmet, she only grew more eager to see him bare-faced.

Finally, with a hiss and a click, the helmet was removed, and she saw peripherally her now-unmasked friend place it neatly on the table. She barely registered this, however, as all attention was on his face.

He looked...

So generic. Like every single actor from every action movie she had watched in life - the modern ones on the surface, and the retro ones that plagued the Underground - somehow joined together and became one man. Short brown hair topped his vaguely jar-shaped head, cropped and parted neatly like a good soldier should keep his hair. His jaw was strong, like even the muscles keeping his teeth together had been trained as ruthlessly as the rest of him. A short but noticeable scar crossed over his right eyebrow. His eyes were a solid blue, bright like the plasma from earlier.

The goat woman looked shaken to her very core upon looking into his eyes. The eyes are windows to the soul, are they not? It seemed the woman had been blessed with the view of his soul, and she was awestruck by it.

Time resumed in silence as the two adults face each other.

" **I'm sorry.** "

And with that, she knew. She knew there was only one way to leave now with him. He refused to do the job earlier and now he would have to face her in battle.

They would fight.

She was happy.

* * *

**Author Notes**

I'd just like to clarify my portrayal of Doomguy here. I believe that 1993 Doomguy and 2016 Doom Slayer are the same person, just several eons apart. My headcanon timeline is: Doom (1993) - Doom II: Hell on Earth - Doom 64 -Slayer's Testaments - Doom (2016). I consider the protagonist of Doom3 to be a different marine, or perhaps Doom3 does not even fit in the timeline.

This fic takes place between the ending of Doom 64 and the time the Slayer's Testaments are written. Doomguy wears his classic armor, and not his Praetor Suit (it hasn't been built yet). He looks like the HUD face in the classic games, as well (but with a scar over his right eyebrow). Finally, he has the full Doom II arsenal – meaning no Unmaker from 64 and no Gauss Cannon, HAR, or any modifications from 2016.

EDIT: Included part II, so I can get right on updating. This was edited on the desktop website with my phone, so it might be wonky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d just like to clarify my portrayal of Doomguy here. I believe that 1993 Doomguy and 2016 Doom Slayer are the same person, just several eons apart. My headcanon timeline is: Doom (1993) -> Doom II: Hell on Earth -> Doom 64 -> Slayer’s Testaments -> Doom (2016). I consider the protagonist of Doom3 to be a different marine, or perhaps Doom3 does not even fit in the timeline.
> 
> This fic takes place between the ending of Doom 64 and the time the Slayer’s Testaments are written. Doomguy wears his classic armor, and not his Praetor Suit (it hasn’t been built yet). He looks like the HUD face in the classic games, as well (but with a scar over his right eyebrow). Finally, he has the full Doom II arsenal – meaning no Unmaker from 64 and no Gauss Cannon, HAR, or any modifications from 2016.
> 
> EDIT: updated with part II


	9. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doomguy meets two brothers as he enters Snowdin.

The stone gate closed behind them. Without the magic barrier anymore, it was held together only by its own weight. With his friend's hand still in his own, he took his fist step forward. Before them was a long stone hallway, stretching out from where they stood to beyond his honed vision. Still, he walked into the unknown, as he always did.

It was quiet all around. The only disturbance to this reverent silence was his own footsteps. Though his friend walked beside him, she did not make any noise, either from her light weight or reasons they'd both rather not speak of.

They walked.

And walked some more.

Finally, a large stone gateway came to view. It was almost as wide as the hallway and as tall as it too.    Together,    they calmly walked through it into the snowy world beyond.

* * *

 

Darkness. He was surrounded by darkness. He could not tell the ground from the walls, or if there were walls. He was alone. He could see nothing.

Nothing but a single spot on the ground lit up by a light through the crack in the cave ceiling.

Nothing but a golden flower.

"Clever," the weed said sarcastically. " _Very_ clever."

He didn't speak, or move, or even make a face. This flower was below his attention.

"You think you're _really_ smart, don't you?"

He rolled his eyes, annoyed that he was being held up by a plant.

"Well you're not!" The flower snapped. It's face instantly contorted to reveal the flower's demonic nature. "You're such an idiot! Do you even know how powerful you are?"

Silence.

"I'd do anything to have that power! Anything!" Its face remained monstrous, but there was a pleading tone to its voice.

"You have unimaginable power over this world, and you're wasting it! Do you think saving one person has changed anything? It hasn't! It won't! It never will!" The pleading tone mixed with impotent rage and became an annoying hiss of hysteria.

"You're just doing this to taunt me, right? You come here with the strength to destroy this world, and then you attack me, and now you're all goody two shoes Mr. Messiah Complex?!"

He raised an eyebrow. First, _the flower_ attacked _him_. Second, how selfish can you get, to think he was here just to mess with a stupid plant?

" **Not everything's about you, you overgrown weed,** " he finally spoke. The flower's face warped back to its simple cartoony disguise. Tears ran down its cheeks.

"Shut up!" The flower could only cry. "You selfish abomination!" Its face warped into a different visage, but it too looked just as evil as the last, if not more. "I hate you!" Vines started to sprout out of the dark ground. Thorns grew out of each vine until the tips almost resembled medieval maces.

"Give me your soul!" The demon lashed out, vines whipping out to grab, flay, and kill him.

Too slow.

With a pull of the trigger, the chaingun began spitting lead all over the demon before him. He didn't move or even flinch as the vines in front of him were torn apart by his death volley. Smoke and dust, the latter being from both the ground and the demon's wounds, puffed up as bullets buried into the dirt. As the dust cloud rose, he finally held his fire.

When the dust settled, the flower was gone. A deep hole, seemingly buried into, was in its place. Dust and dead vines, as well as a single golden petal, littered the ground lit by the spotlight.

He let out a sigh, saddened that he didn't get to kill the demon there and then. Putting aside his weapon, he continued walking until he saw another, more ornate stone gateway, which let a dim light in and a cold breeze through.

He finally exited the Ruins, into Snowdin.

* * *

 

As soon as he stepped into the snow blanketing the ground, he realized his little friend was waiting for him just outside.

_Did you see all that?_

She didn't respond. After a few seconds of looking into his eyes through his helmet, she offered her hand up to him.

He motioned to wait for a second. There was a bush behind him, and it looked suspicious. He turned and pushed its leaves aside, looking for whatever it was hiding.

He found a camera, which buzzed as the lens zoomed away from him as he found it. A red light beeped silently next to the lens, indicating that it was recording.

_Someone's watching us._

He quickly readied his fist to destroy the camera, but she interrupted him.

"That's not very friendly of you."

His fist froze mid-punch. He brought it to his helmet mouthpiece, as if it were his chin, and contemplated this. He decided she was right; sparing the camera after letting the unknown viewer know he found it would seem like a friendly move.

Doomguy took her hand, and didn't press the matter any further.

Together they walked the narrow path, which had a slightly thinner layer of snow on it than the surrounding area. Trees lined the path, so close together they were like walls. The wind blew at a comfortable breeze, lightly raking the trees and pushing leaves off the branches.

Except for the sound of rustling leaves and his boots marching through the snow, everything was very quiet. They kept walking the straight path.

_How long is this path?_

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

_No. I'm serious, we've been here forever._

"It hasn't been a single minute. Be patient."

He grunted, unamused. He wasn't used to long, linear paths anymore. Hell was almost always a maze or an open field. Quiet, linear paths were almost always reserved for an encounter with a particularly large demon, so travelling down the Snowdin path made him anxious.

Their monotonous path was only broken from sync by a single fallen branch. It was thin and had no leaves. He stepped over it, not seeing any reason to crush it underfoot. Once it was behind him, the path returned to normalcy.

 _If we run into a demon I'm killing it_.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, he heard something behind him.

Crack.

He turned around, his body whipping at great speed to face the source of the sound.  His pistol was already in his hand, ready to shoot the branch crusher.

No one was there. The branch was broken. There were footprints that didn't match his own, and seemed to trail him. But no one was there.

A single bead a sweat trickled down his muscled brow. His eyes looked strait ahead, then left, then right. Left right left. Straight. He didn't see anything but the broke branch and the strange footprints.

As he carefully holstered his gun, he took his friend's hand again and turned, walking towards the forest. He took a faster pace than before.

The wind continued blowing, now a little harder than before. His bare arms felt the breeze get colder, and he would've thanked Hell for hardying him up against such weather, if he weren't so focused. And because he hated Hell.

After the sudden strong gust, the wind died down, and all was silent. Except of course, for his own footsteps.

And footsteps behind him.

He turned again, shotgun already cocked, and faced his pursuer.

No one.

"The bridge is right there," his friend spoke up, not in the least disturbed by what was happening. She pointed down the path, and he could see over his shoulder the bridge she was talking about. They were close.

He faced the bridge, took her hand, and booked it. He ran as fast as he would when he was hunting for demons in Hell. The snow kicked up behind the force of his legs, and he zoomed through the path towards the bridge. So close.

The footsteps were getting closer.

He didn't bother to look if his friend was keeping up. She was a ghost anyway, or something like that. She could handle it. He kept sprinting until he neared the bridge.

It was directly behind him now.

Just in front of the bridge, which connected the path over a short but very deep pit, he turned once again. Once he faced the pursuer, he finally saw it himself, but he couldn't make out any features. The shadows of the trees melded around the creature, covering it in complete darkness. He noted that it was much shorter than him, only a little taller than his friend.

It didn't look like the flower, which relieved Doomguy a little. But an attacker was an attacker, and he needed to move quickly. In a split second, Doomguy's super shotgun was pointed at was most likely the creature's face. One wrong move and it would be dust.

Silence.

"H u m a n," it finally spoke, voice deep and bellowing. "T h a t ' s   n o t   h o w   y o u   g r e e t   a   n e w   p a l ." It drew its words out, as if it pained it to speak at all. It extended its left arm out, revealing a bony hand, still shrouded in darkness.

"S h a k e   m y   h a n d ."

For a few seconds, no one moved. No one made a sound, not even the wind or the leaves. The creature did not lower its hand.

Slowly, hesitantly, Doomguy lowered his super shotgun until it only pointed to the snow beside him, no longer a threat. Another second passed, and he finally extended his own left hand out, ready for anything and everything.

…

**_BRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPRRRRRhhhhhhhhiiiiiihhhhhh..._ **

He wasn't prepared for that.

With every passing second, Doomguy's eyelids became heavier and heavier, his shoulders more slouched, and his eyebrows lowered to an aggravated squint.

He could finally see the pursuer for what it was, and frankly, he felt dumb for ever thinking it was a threat. Before him stood a short skeleton – bare bones and no organs to speak of – held together by no visible muscles or flesh. He wore a blue hoodie left unzipped and open, revealing a plain white t-shirt underneath. He also wore basketball shorts, and loose socks and fluffy slippers. White 'pupils' floated in his otherwise empty eye sockets. Despite not having skin or muscles, a big shit-eating grin was plastered on his 'face'.

"heheh..." He snickered. His voice was much more lax, but still deep. The skeleton withdrew his hand and stuffed it into his jacket pocket."the old whoopee cushion in the hand trick. it's ALWAYS funny."

_Is it, though?_

"anyways, you're a human right?"

Doomguy looked away, as if unsure how to answer, before nodding in response. The skeleton probably didn't notice that.

"that's hilarious. i'm sans. sans the skeleton," he introduced himself.

" **Doomguy,** " Doomguy returned in kind, giving the skeleton a curt nod.

"woah, cool name buddy," Sans replied. "actually, i'm supposed to be on watch for humans right now. but... y'know..." He continued, looking away.

"i don't really care about capturing anybody." Sans looked back at Doomguy.

Doomguy was relieved to hear that. The less monsters trying to hurt or capture him, the quicker he can leave.

"but my brother, papyrus..."

_Fuck, I spoke too soon._

"he's a human-capturing FANATIC," Sans said, his grin only getting bigger – again, despite not having skin or muscles. Doomguy decided not to question it.

"hey, actually, i think that's him over there," Sans added, now looking beyond the bridge behind Doomguy. "i have an idea. go through this gate thingy."

Doomguy turned to look at the 'gate thingy'. Only now did he notice it.

"yeah, go on through," Sans said as he motioned to the gate. "my bro made the bars too wide to stop anyone."

Doomguy went on through, passing through the widely-spaced bars and crossing the short bridge. He was now at a guard station of some kind, with a shed nearby and a misshapen lamp placed in the middle of the space.

"quick," Sans spoke up from behind him, "behind that conveniently-shaped lamp."

Doomguy, without thinking, got behind the lamp, only to see that he was much too tall for it. The lamp could probably only hide a small child. He looked back at Sans after realizing this.

"oh. i guess it's not so convenient, huh?" Doomguy looked around for a few seconds for something to hide behind, to no avail.

"think fast, dude." Sans lazily interjected. It appeared that his brother was near.

Doomguy stepped aside so that he was now next to the lamp and not behind it. He froze up, and stood as straight as possible. He quickly threw a salute, and stayed in a stance reminiscent of his marine days.

It was then that Sans' brother, Papyrus, showed himself. And Doomguy resisted every urge to arm himself, run, attack on sight, or all three.

Papyrus was also a skeleton, but looked like the physical opposite of Sans. He was tall. _Very_ tall, probably a full head taller than Doomguy, who himself was six feet and six inches tall. Papyrus wore a white body armor that only covered his ribs and shoulders, a red scarf, and red mittens and boots with gold straps. His skull was longer and less rounded than Sans, and his sockets lacked the white pupils of his brother. While Sans stood in a casual, rather uncaring stance, Papyrus stood ready and attentive. His height, armor, and overall look reminded Doomguy of a certain demon.

_That's a revenant. That's a fucking revenant!_

Still, he resisted the urge to move, or even breathe heavily. Or breathe at all. He kept his eyes on Papyrus, ready to defend himself if he needed to.

"sup, bro?" Sans asked Papyrus.

"YOU KNOW WHAT'S 'UP', BROTHER!" Papyrus replied. His voice was much higher and louder than Sans', another way in which they were opposites. "IT'S BEEN EIGHT DAYS SINCE YOU..." Papyrus paused, putting a gloved hand on his hip.

"RECALIBRATED. YOUR. PUZZLES!" he continued. "YOU JUST HANG AROUND YOUR--"

"WOWEE, SANS! WHERE'D YOU GET THIS SPACE MARINE STATUE?" Papyrus asked, pointed at Doomguy. Doomguy quietly swallowed his spit.

"you like it?" Sans asked back. "i found it in the dump. i got it for you, since i know you love these cool future stuff." Doomguy would've gotten upset at Sans excuse if he were not so focused on Papyrus.

"WHO WOULD THROW OUT SUCH A GREAT MODEL? THANKS, SANS! YOU'RE THE BEST!" Papyrus exclaimed, obviously having forgotten his anger at his brother a few seconds ago. Papyrus moved towards Doomguy, who remained still.

"oh, don't touch it yet," Sans said. "it came from the dump, it's still dirty."

"EW," Papyrus reacted, pulling away from Doomguy. "WELL, I'LL CLEAN IT UP AFTER MY SHIFT, AND PUT IT IN MY ROOM."

"when's your shift over?" Sans asked, still behind Doomguy.

"ONCE I CATCH A HUMAN, OF COURSE!" Papyrus exclaimed. "I HAVE TO BE READY, AFTER ALL! I NEED TO BE THE ONE TO CAPTURE A HUMAN!" He continued, looking off dramatically, a hand on his chest-plate.

"THEN, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL FINALLY GET ALL THE THINGS I DESERVE!" He yelled out into the sky, eyes closed (somehow). "RECOGNITION, RESPECT!"

"I COULD FINALLY JOIN THE ROYAL GUARD!" Papyrus yelled in excitement, now turning his attention back to Sans. "PEOPLE WILL ASK ME 'CAN I BE YOUR FRIEND?', AND I WILL BE SHOWERED IN THE KISSES OF MY ADORING FANS EVERY MORNING!"

"hmm..." Sans said. "maybe this space marine can help you."

"DON'T BE SILLY SANS! STATUES CAN'T HELP YOU ACHIEVE YOUR DREAMS! ONLY HARD WORK CAN DO THAT..." Papyrus trailed off. "NOT THAT YOU'D KNOW, LAZYBONES!"

"hey, take it easy. I've gotten a _ton_ of work done today," Sans retorted. "a _skele-ton_."

_Really?_

"SANS!" Papyrus angrily yelled.

"come on. you're smiling."

"I AM AND I HATE IT! SIGH..." Papyrus said, actually saying the word 'sigh'. "HAVE TO DO SO MUCH TO GET RECOGNITION..."

"hey," Sans said. "really sounds like you're working yourself..."

_Don't._

"down to the bone."

_Goddammit._

_"_ UGH!" Papyrus said, disgusted. "I WILL ATTEND TO MY PUZZLES... AS FOR YOUR WORK?" Papyrus said, pointing directly at Sans. "PUT A LITTLE MORE,"

_Please don't._

"'BACKBONE' INTO IT!"

_GodDAMMIT._

Papyrus laughed a nasal laugh as he saunter further into Snowdin forest, before returning to laugh a little more. He finally stepped out.

"okay, you can relax now," Sans said to Doomguy. Doomguy dropped his stance like a heavy weight, and let out a deep breath. He turned to Sans once more after collecting himself.

"you oughta get going," Sans advised. 'he might come back. And if he comes back, you'll have to sit through more of my hilarious jokes." Sans gave a little wink.

At that, Doomguy immediately turned and walked out the same way Papyrus left, eager to not hear any more of Sans' awful puns.

Once he had started walking the path again, something grabbed his hand from his side. For a second, he thought it was another monster, but as he looked down he saw it was his little friend.

_Where were you?_

She only shrugged in response. "Nice space marine pose."

He grumbled at her comment. She giggled a little before walking with him.

_I can't believe I'm saying this, but I can't wait to get back to Hell._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lived, bitch.


	10. Boxes, Bait, and Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doomguy and his friend argue. Also skeletons.

_That lamp was really useless._

“Get over it.”

But he couldn’t. What was it doing out in the middle of the clearing like that, all beat up and misshapen? He felt like it was a punchline to a joke that never started. His mind delved into the possibilities of his presence being known to the skeleton brothers. What if they put the lamp there to mess with him? Why, for their own amusement? For the amusement of some unseen force? The shorter brother had concealed himself in shadow, and disguised his voice until the moment came for a prank. As if he could bend reality to his will. If his will is only to have a quick laugh, then good, but that kind of power in anyone’s hands is dangerous. What if he gets serious, and bends reality to do evil? Is he the true ruler of the Underground, and everyone lives just for his amusement to appease him so he won’t become bored and destroy--

“Geez,” the child sighed. “It was a one-off visual joke. Let it go.”

Doomguy gave a grunt of annoyance. If his little friend wants to ignore the elephant in the room, that’s her problem. As the Bane of Hell, he needed to think of every possibility before it could happen. That’s no different here in the Underground. He needs to be prepared for any and everything, and even defend himself from anyone and everyone if need be.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. You made a promise.”

_I can defend myself without hurting anyone, you know._

They had been walking for only a few minutes, following the beaten path of Snowdin between walls of trees, but they’ve already had a thesis’ worth of discourse on the implications of Sans’ apparent powers, the possibilities of demons attacking, and which animal is cuter: goats or rabbits. However, their banter came to a stop when Doomguy saw a box in another clearing, next to a sign.

“The box can carry your stuff,” she explained, “and the same box will show up in other places so you can manage your inventory.”

_Inventory?_

“Yeah, so you can carry more weapons and healing items and armor, and uh, stuff.”

_You don’t just use up everything as soon as you see it on the floor?_

“Well you could, but it’d be useful to save them for later.”

 _What a concept,_ he thought, genuinely surprised at the notion of saving things other than ammunition for later.

“You going to use it?”

Well, he was already carrying five firearms, one chainsaw, and one superweapon that cannot simply be called a “gun”, so he thought about what weapons he could part with for now. He realized, technically speaking, he wouldn’t need any weapons since he doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but he wanted to be prepared for an emergency. He decided he could part with a few of his guns and some excess ammo for now.

He took the backpack off and placed it on the snow in front of him, pulled the rocket launcher out, and put it into the box.

“How did that fit in your bag?”

_Don’t worry about it._

Since rockets can only be used by that one weapon, he had no need for the rockets he had now. He deposited all one hundred of his rockets into the box as well.

“Wow.”

Next came the plasma rifle and all five hundred ninety-nine of its cells, which he unpacked from his bottomless backpack and packed into the equally bottomless box.

His friend silently watched him.

Next came the chaingun. If he could be quick enough with the pistol, he wouldn’t need it anyway. So into the box it went, but he decided to keep all of the two hundred rounds it came with, since his pistol uses the same caliber.

“Is… is that all?”

_Oh, almost forgot._

He pulled out one last weapon from his backpack. Massive, steel, and very, very heavy-looking. Also intimidating. Even his stone-cold friend seemed uncomfortable looking at it.

“Wha-what is that thing…”

_I don’t even want to really part with this baby. It’s saved my ass countless times, and fried armies of demons with one shot more times than that. Eh, but I’m not carrying plasma so it’s just extra weight._

He didn’t answer her question, but he deposited the ‘gun’ all the same. With that all over—

“Wait,” the child interrupted. “I saw this in the box.” She handed Doomguy a fingerless glove, padded near the knuckles. It looked like MMA glove or something like that, but it was pink and had a faded heart symbol on the back of the palm. He nodded to her, took the marine’s glove off his left hand, and put on the new one. Pink as it is, it’s a good fit and would come in handy with his usual melee style of assault. He packed away his old glove in one of the pouches of his belt, put his backpack on, and stood up.

Right. With that all over, for real, he further took in his surroundings. There was a fork in the road now. To the north, there was another clearing, and to the east there was another long path. Stopping to listen, he could hear the sound of water gently hitting rocks from the north clearing.

_A river._

“A dead end.”

 _Always check dead ends first,_ he thought authoritatively. _Usually good stuff hidden there, or a clue to how to get past it._

“I doubt it…” she murmured. But of course, he heard. And of course, he ignored. He took off, not stopping to take the child’s waiting hand.

* * *

Doomguy shook his head as he left the river clearing.

“Told you so.”

He glared at her through his helmet, and she met his gaze. And stuck out her tongue.

_Fuck you._

She eyed him up and down. “No thanks.”

For a split second he thought about trying out his new glove on her, but then he remembered he can’t hurt her.

“The mighty Doom Slayer would hit a child.”

Then he remembered she could read his mind.

_Only demon children._

“Am I a demon, Hell Walker?” She stopped walking even though he continued, and tilted her head to the side, pointed at herself, and gave a creepy, creepy grin that reached close to her glassy, red eyes. _Just_ a bit closer than they should be able to.

He stopped around six feet away from her, just to get a look at her faux-innocent caricature. _Keep smiling like that and I might answer you. With a bullet._

“Nice comeback. Must’ve taken you the afterlife to think that one up!” She put both her hands behind her back and bounced on her heels. Her creepy grin was, against all logic, reaching new heights. A few more millimeters and she’d look like a two-eyed cacodemon.

Absolutely demonic.

In a blink of an eye he covered the distance between them. Her grin disappeared as Doomguy put his hands on her arms, his body bent so he could be face to face with her. Through his visor, he saw her eyes. But no soul. Empty pools of red, surrounded by the milky whites of her sclera.

_Listen kid. I don’t want to hurt anyone that doesn’t deserve it. You are acting like someone who deserves it._

She returned his stare, but didn’t say a word.

_You think you’re powerful? That I’m underestimating you? Because you’re some kind of soulless ghost, and have power over this domain?_

He let go of her with his right hand, and brought it to his helmet. With a quick motion, he revealed his face. _I have taken on Hell itself. And won on several occasions. I have slain more demons than there are humans on my Earth. Every evil soul in the history of the multiverse, all there. And I’ve killed half of them._

He pointed into his own blue eyes as he continued. _Look. Look into my eyes. See what I have seen. The carnage. The destruction. The genocide. You fancy yourself a goddess because you can do a few ghostly parlor tricks? I have taken down temples to evil gods with my bare hands. And the gods do not challenge me._

Her eyes seemed to melt out of reality. A black void dripped out of her sockets. The trees surrounding them curl outward, the snow parts from where they stand. But he doesn’t relinquish his stare. _You are nothing compared to the depths of Hell. The monsters that led the invasion to the mortal world. The abomination that gave birth to all demons. The very manifestation of sin itself. All of them, dead. Dead._

The void slipped out of her mouth, like a black snake tongue. The fabric of life slowly unthreaded, a new star in space dimming as every second passed. The eternal cold of nonexistence washed over them both. _You have the rage in your heart to destroy everything. But look in my eyes. Look into my soul and ask yourself this question._

“ **Do you want to fucking go?** ”

* * *

 

Dusting his gloved hands, Doomguy returned his helmet to its rightful place over his head. He took in his surroundings one more time before deciding to head on east, through the continued path of Snowdin.

_You coming?_

The child stayed where she stood, eyes aimed firmly at her feet. Her hands tugged down at the hem of her shirt, and her head bowed down. She took a moment, but she finally nodded, still refusing to look him in the eye.

He nodded back before moving on, past the box he had already used and into the road beyond.

As he walked, two shapeless figures in the fog seemed to come closer. By the time he could hear their voices, he could already make out who they were.

“SO, AS I WAS SAYING ABOUT UNDYNE,” said the taller one.

Doomguy froze up, and immediately looked for somewhere to hide. But it was too late, as he could see Papyrus and Sans looking directly at him.

_Shit!_

Papyrus and Sans did a double take at Doomguy’s sudden appearance. And then a triple take. They looked at each other. Then Doomguy. Each other. Behind them. Doomguy. All the while the space marine remained motionless. Finally, they turned around completely.

“SANS!” whisper-screamed Papyrus. “OH MY GOD! IS THAT…”

They both turned around as Papyrus capped off his sentence. “A HUMAN?!”

Sans craned his neck a bit to his left, looking at something behind Doomguy. “uhhh… actually i think that’s a rock.”

Papyrus’ shoulders drooped, and his head fell exaggeratedly in disappointment. “OH.”

Doomguy took the distraction to look behind him, and there was in fact a rock there. He looked at Sans and gave him an appreciative thumbs up.

“hey, what’s that in front of the rock?”

_Oh come on!_

“OH MY GOD!” Papyrus stooped down to Sans, and whispered very loudly, “IS… IS THAT A HUMAN?”

“yes” replied Sans, who didn’t really whisper so much as make his voice deeper. “looks like a space marine, too.”

Doomguy let out a heavy sigh. _Here we go._

“OH MY GOD! SANS! I FINALLY DID IT!”

_Oh boy._

“UNDYNE WILL… I’M GONNA… I’LL BE SO—“

“ **Yeah, hi, I’m Doomguy,** ” Doomguy interrupted impatiently. “ **Human. Definitely. Nice scarf. Listen, I need to go see your king so can we move this along?** ” He walked up to the pair to make his intention clear. “ **Real urgent.** ”

“O-OH,” Papyrus said, surprised. “I’M PAPYRUS, FUTURE CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARD. IT’S NICE TO MEET YOU, MR. GUY!” He extended his red mitted hand out to greet the Slayer enthusiastically.

Mr. Guy?

“ **Real honor talking to someone so important,** ” he said as he gave the skeleton a brisk handshake. “ **Hey, since you’re Royal Guard, think you can take me to the king? Want to tell him I’m impressed with your guarding skills.** ”

“WOWIE!” Papyrus squealed. “DO YOU HEAR THAT SANS? THE SPACE MARINE IS IMPRESSED WITH ME!” Papyrus turned to his brother, who gave a half-assed thumbs up.

“good work bro.” Sans said, giving a wink.

“OH, BUT, SORRY MR. GUY,” Papyrus suddenly apologized, “I HAVE TO TAKE YOU TO THE CAPTAIN OF ROYAL GUARD FIRST! THE CURRENT ONE,” he added, looking to the side as if embarrassed.

 _Damn it._ “ **Yeah… no can do,** ” Doomguy said, putting his hand on his shoulder in faux sheepishness. “ **Going to the king myself.** ” He started walking past the two skeletons.

“OH BUT YOU CAN’T!” Papyrus yelled, walking back with his arms outstretched to stop the intruder from going were he’s going. “I HAVE TO CAPTURE YOU AND BRING YOU TO CAPTAIN UNDYNE! THAT’S THE ONLY WAY I CAN GET RECOGNITION FOR FINDING YOU!”

_Goddammit._

Papyrus straightened up, and continued, “AHEM.”

He actually said ‘ahem’.

“HUMAN! YOU SHALL NOT PASS THIS AREA!” the skeleton proclaimed excitedly. He stood there in the middle of the path, hands on his hips, posing like a superhero. “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL STOP YOU!

_Like Hell you will._

Papyrus threw his hand out in a vigorous salute. “I WILL THEN CAPTURE YOU!”

_Uh huh._

The royal guard fanatic clenched his fist dramatically. “YOU WILL BE DELIVERED TO THE CAPITAL!”

_Is that where the king is? I could probably escape from capture once I’m there, then meet the king myself…_

The over-the-top skeleton looked up in the sky, a sparkle in his empty sockets. “THEN... THEN—“

“ **Well,** Doomguy interjected, interrupting Papyrus’ impassioned speech. “ **You got me. Stopped me. So you have to capture me now.** ” He presented his wrists to the tall brother, waiting to be cuffed. “ **Take me to your boss.** ”

“NYE-NYEH?” Papyrus said, confused at his prey’s willingness. “YOU DON’T WANT TO TRY TO ESCAPE FIRST?”

“ **Nope,** ” Doomguy replied, bringing his wrists closer to Papyrus.

“B-BUT I HAD ALL THESE PUZZLES PREPARED IN CASE YOU TRIED…” Papyrus said, more to himself than to Doomguy. He sounded very sad.

_Please just take me in._

“ARE YOU SURE YOU DON’T WANT TO TRY ESCAPING THROUGH THE WOODS FIRST?” Papyrus asked, pleading more than making sure. “IT MIGHT BE FUN!”

“ **I’m sure,** ” Doomguy said matter-of-factly. “ **Come on, think of your promotion,** ” he carefully added, practically shoving his wrists into Papyrus’ face.

“OKAY…” Papyrus sighed, bringing out some chained cuffs.

“psst,” Sans suddenly said, reminding them both of his presence. “papyrus. bro.”

 _Don’t you fucking do it,_ Doomguy thought, glaring at Sans through his near-opaque visor.

“YEAH, SANS?” Papyrus asked, still sounding sad and disappointed.

“i thought you’ll use your traps on him first,” Sans said, looking directly at Doomguy himself just an arm’s reach away. “so undyne would be impressed with your human capturing skills _and_ your puzzles and traps.”

“NYEH?” Papyrus lowered the cuffs, turning to Sans to hear him out.

Doomguy was now looking at the path behind the brothers. With both of them distracted by the other, if he were just quick enough…

“yeah, dude. if you take him now because he wanted you to, well anyone could do that. even me, probably. but if you take him in after puzzling him with your puzzles and trapping him with your traps, that would make you seem super cool.”

“REALLY? LIKE, ‘CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARD’ COOL?!”

 _Now!_ Doomguy broke into a dash, kicking up snow behind him from the speed of his sprint.

Except he didn’t.

 _What?!_ he screamed internally, trying to raise his feet but failing. His whole body was frozen in place, like a massive weight was keeping him down where he was. As if gravity itself focused on him and him alone.

“like ‘captain papyrus of snowdin, leader of the royal guard’ cool,” Sans continued. He looked to the side, meeting Doomguy’s burning stare with his own cool, casual glance.

“YOU’RE RIGHT SANS!” Papyrus yelled. “THERE’S NO WAY I’M LETTING THIS CHANCE GO!”

Papyrus turned to the trapped Doomguy. “AHEM!”

He actually said ‘ahem’.

“HUMAN! YOU SHALL NOT BE BROUGHT TO THE CAPITAL SO EASILY! FIRST YOU MUST PROVE YOURSELF WORTHY BY FACING THE MANY TRIALS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE PREPARED!”

_Fantastic._

“SHOULD YOU PROVE YOURSELF, WE SHALL FACE EACH OTHER IN HONORABLE COMBAT BEYOND SNOWDIN TOWN!”

_And he wants to fight too. Great._

“I WILL BE WAITING!” Papyrus ended, walking back as mysteriously as he could. “NYEH HEH HEH HEH!”

Papyrus left through the path beyond, but Doomguy still remained stuck.

“well, that went well,” Sans told Doomguy. Doomguy noted a faint glow coming from his left eye socket.

“don’t sweat it, bro. i’ll keep an eye socket out for ya.” Sans winked at Doomguy and left the same way Papyrus did.

And then Doomguy could move again.

_Damn skeletons. Damn magic._

“Those two seem fun,” his little friend spoke up. By now Doomguy was understanding that she disappears whenever others speak to him.

_The short one. He’s got strong magic._

“You’ve taken on Hell, Doomguy,” she replied. It was the first time she called him that. “You can handle them.”

_... Thanks._

Doomguy checked his surroundings one last time. Taking his friends hand, they went off, continuing into the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s term break, so I’m back to writing. Thanks for reading. Keep leaving reviews and tell me what you like about my fic (please). Also stuff you don’t like. I haven’t written in a while so I might be off beat. Thanks!
> 
> PS Quake Champions confirms the Doom Slayer is Doomguy. His artifact is Daisy’s left foot, described as “the Doom Slayer’s pet rabbit, killed by marauding demons when they invaded Earth”.
> 
> PPS The Doom Slayer’s legendary skin in Quake Champions, the classic space marine suit, is what he looks like in this fic.


	11. More Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doomguy gets into a fight with a local, and a dog. Eats a hotdog. Solves a puzzle. Good times.

" _Freeze_ , human!" the monster punned as it launched giant, bladed snowflakes at Doomguy. Doomguy strafed out of the way just in time to see all the flakes get stuck in a nearby tree.

_Toriel said they were peaceful!_

"I'm pretty sure she said they'd try to hurt you," his little friend answered, leaning against a rock and checking her nails out of boredom. "Something about needing your soul. I don't know. I wasn't listening."

_Hurt me? Those are ice shurikens! Those could kill!_

"Uh huh."

"I'll make shaved ice out of you!" the monster continued. The snowblades stuck in the tree shot out of its bark, curving and homing in on Doomguy.

Doomguy dodged all the projectiles, and watched as they all returned to the monster's feathers. They circled each other, waiting for the other to slip up somehow.

_Any suggestions?_

"It's called a Snowdrake," the girl explained, now sitting on top of the rock, swinging her legs. "This one's a teenager. Looks like it wants to be a comedian."

"Hey human, can you guess my favorite kind of cereal?" the Snowdrake asked, still circling his quarry.

Doomguy didn't respond. He expected the Snowdrake to attack again while he was distracted by a bad joke, so he didn't give that opening.

" _Frosties_!" the monster answered anyway. It stopped moving, mouth open in a smile, waiting for a reaction.

" **Boo,** " Doomguy replied.

The Snowdrake straightened up indignantly, mouth open from anger. "Tough crowd," it finally murmured. "But let's see how tough you are when I kill ya!"

Five snowblades launched straight at Doomguy, and two more came at wavy patterns. In a split second, he already assessed which ones would hit him first and from where: feet to trip him up, head to disorient him, chest for a sure hit, and two homing ones to finish the job.

Jump, duck, strafe right, slide forward. All five projectiles missed their marks, getting caught in the tree behind him with a sickening crunch of bark. Doomguy stood up, fists in front of him. The monster looked in awe at his apparent mastery in dodging.

Doomguy took a step forward, and punched his right palm with his pink-gloved left fist. " **I'm in a rush. Go home, kid.** " He cracked his knuckles for added effect, making sure to flex and emphasize his bare, muscular arms

The Snowdrake made an audible gulping sound, and turned away running.

"He just wanted you to laugh at his jokes," his friend critiqued.

_I'm a bad liar._

"Yeah, those jokes were pretty bad. But puns are serious business in the Underground." She hopped off the rock and continued walking with him. "Just so you know."

 _Thanks for the heads up._  Doomguy investigated the spot that the Snowdrake was standing on before running off, and found some gold coins laying on the snow.

"Oh, yeah," his friend said as she noticed what he was doing. "Monsters like to leave behind gold when they escape fights. If you spare them or scare them off, they usually leave some kind of compensation." She raised her hands and wiggled them, mimicking the feathers of the Snowdrake.

"Like, 'sorry for wasting your time! Have some gold! Don't beat me up, please!' or something."

Doomguy just looked at her quietly.

"It's a culture thing. Just take the gold and let's go."

He took her hand and made his way through the path of Snowdin.

* * *

"The sign says not to move."

_How the Hell are we supposed to get there if we don't move?_

"I dunno, just reading the sign."

_To Hell with that noise._

Doomguy moved on past the sign, moving every inch of his body out of spite. As he moved in a particularly move-y manner, he spotted a guardhouse nearby to his left, with a little wooden dog head adorning the front of the roof.

"Hey!" yelled a gruff voice from inside the guardhouse.

 _Shit,_  Doomguy cursed as he stopped moving.

A head peeped up into view from behind the counter of the guardhouse. A dog head, with black fur over its eyes and ears, and white fur down the neck. "Did something move? Was it just my imagination?" The dog looked left and right.

Doomguy remained still.

"I can only see moving things," it continued, still looking at its surroundings. "If something  _was_  moving… for example, a human…"

Doomguy broke into a proper sprint. He didn't want to stick around.

"Aha!"

Doomguy turned just in time to see a  _fucking sword_  thrown at him. Duck!

" **Greh!** " Doomguy yelled, falling to the snow and bleeding as the sword impaled him. He ducked out of the way, why did it still hit him square on the chest? It probably homed in on him, and way better than the Snowdrake's snowblades. He pulled out the sword, shook off his wounds, and stood up.

The dog somersaulted out of the guardhouse, and pulled out two more short swords, both of them made from some kind of blue steel. "Human! I'll make sure you  _never_  move again!"

Doomguy observed the dog before him, and they started to circle each other. The dog stood on two legs ending in bare, black-furred paws. It wore a light pink muscle shirt with a print of a different dog's face on it, and Doomguy assumed that the dog itself was lean and muscular under all the fur. The dog also wore leopard-print pants and a brown belt, and wielded its swords in an unorthodox way that looked more suited to knives.

 _Shit. He looks tough to beat,_  Doomguy thought.  _Without just using my gun, of course. That could kill him. Can't have that._

"Don't worry, you have two thousand, five hundred and twenty four HP left," his friend chimed in. "You can take two thousand more swords through the heart and still be fine."

_Still hurts like shit!_

"Hiyah!" the dog barked as it lunged forward, slashing in a wide horizontal arc at Doomguy.

"Don't move!" his friend yelled.

Too late. Doomguy's instinct came quicker than the girl's advice, and he reeled back in pain from the dog's successful attack. He clutched his new wound on his right arm, but became motionless.

"Where'd you go?" the dog said defensively, holding one sword in front of him and the other behind him. His eyes shot left and right, looking for the now still Doomguy.

"This is Doggo. He can't see you if you don't move," she explained. "Same goes for his attacks."

_What the hell? It won't hit me if I don't move?_

"Yes. Blue magic works like that."

"Where'd you go?!" Doggo yelled as he tried to attack Doomguy once more. Doomguy trusted in his friend enough to remain still for the attack, but he did brace himself for pain either way.

The blue sword phased right though him, like he wasn't even there.

"He's gone!" Doggo shouted, looking left and right for any sign of movement.

_Thanks, kid. But now what? I can't leave without moving._

"Pet him," she answered.

_What._

"Just do it," she continued.

Well, Doggo is within arm's reach. If she was right about the blue magic, she should be right about petting the dog. Doomguy reached out quickly, hand outstretched, and placed his palm firmly between the ears.

"What?!" Doggo barked, eyes wide in confusion. Doomguy began lightly patting Doggo's head, rubbing the fur at a comfortable speed for both parties involved.

"I've been pet!" Doggo exclaimed, moving away from Doomguy's hand. "Pot? Pat? Pet?" He started making wild swings around him while barking loudly, and Doomguy stood still to avoid them all.

Once he was a considerable distance away from where Doomguy stood, Doggo started to compose himself. "S-S-S-Something pet me..." he stammered. "Something that isn't m-m-m-moving... I'm gonna need some dog treats for this!"

With that, he back-flipped back into the guardhouse, out of sight and out of the way. After a few more seconds of remaining still, Doomguy heard the sounds of whimpering and biscuits crunching.

_That was something._

"Aren't dogs weird?" his friend mused. "Are you a dog person?"

 _I'm okay with dogs,_  he thought as he picked up the coins Doggo left behind.  _I prefer rabbits, though._

The pair pressed on, ignoring the trail of blood Doomguy was leaving in the snow from his wounds.

* * *

Before Doomguy stood a frozen lake, with sign in the middle, for some reason. The road split again, north and east like before. Also, Sans was there. Great.

"hey, doomguy," Sans beckoned, hands in his pockets like always. Doomguy rolled his eyes and walked up to him. "here's something important to remember. my brother has a very  _special attack_."

_Oh?_

"If you see a  _blue attack_ ," Sans continued, "don't move and it won't hurt you."

" **Gee,** " Doomguy said sarcastically. " **Thanks. Could've used it five minutes ago.** "

"oh, yeah, doggo uses blue attacks. you got past him though, so good job." Sans winked.

Doomguy pointed at the bloody hole in his chest, and the gash across his right arm.

"oh, he nicked ya, huh? have a hotdog," Sans said, whipping out a hotdog on a bun from his jacket's pocket.

" **Thanks…** " Doomguy said, taking the hotdog and covertly inspecting it. Was it in his pocket the whole time, or…?

"You're not going to…" his friend said, trailing off as Doomguy removed his helmet.

_Eh, why the Hell not._

Doomguy took a big bite of the cold hot dog bun, halving it in one bite. In just a few seconds he chewed it all, and put the rest of it in his mouth.

It tasted exactly as you'd expect a cold hot dog kept in someone's pocket without a wrapper to taste like.

Already, the wounds Doomguy received were healing themselves, the sting of Doggo's magic swords subsiding. Even his armor healed from the consumption of the monster food. And yet the burns Toriel's magic still remained. Now that Doomguy thought about it, he hadn't healed since he had gotten into the Underground.

"big eater, huh? here, have another. you can save that for another time you get hurt. so, about blue attacks… imagine a stop sign. when you see a stop sign, you stop right?"

Doomguy nodded, taking the hotdog and dropping it in an unused pouch on his belt.

"stop signs are red. so imagine a blue stop sign instead."

_What._

"simple, right? when fighting, think about blue stop signs."

Doomguy squinted and nodded slowly, before turning right and pressing on.

Now he was at the edge of the frozen lake, with a passage to the north and the path continuing east. He moved to the edge of the lake where he could see the sign, and saw some directions on it.

"North is ice," his little friend narrated as he read the sign. "South is ice. West is ice. East is Snowdin Town. And ice."

_We go north._

The two maneuvered around the lake and went north, into an open area leading to a sheer cliff. A single snowman stood in the clearing, facing the pair.

 _Hmm_ , Doomguy thought as he got close to the snowman to investigate. Must be an item here…

"Hello," a voice greeted cheerfully from within the snowman. Pulling back, Doomguy looked to seethat the voice was coming from the snowman himself.

"I am a snowman," the snowman continued. "I want to see the world… but I cannot move."

Doomguy rover-eyed the snowman. With an apparent lack of legs, the snowman's story checked out.

"If you would be so kind, traveler, please take a piece of me and bring it very far away."

Doomguy looked at the snowman suspiciously. A trap? Probably not. Or perhaps there is a reward? Either way, it wouldn't hurt to do as it asked. Doomguy nodded and took a piece of the snowman's torso, and turned to continue onward.

"Looks tasty," his friend commented.

Doomguy looked at her, his disgust palpable from behind his helmet. He pocketed the snow and headed east to Snowdin Town.

* * *

"YOU'RE SO LAZY!" screamed Papyrus at Sans. "YOU WERE NAPPING ALL NIGHT!"

 _Aw fuck,_  thought Doomguy, as he realized that he had encountered the skeleton brothers once again. Before him now `was a cleared out area, all snow pushed to the edges of what Doomguy assumed to be cliffs. Was Snowdin built on a mountain?

"i think that's called 'sleeping'," retorted Sans. Both brothers then turned to see their guest.

"OH-HO," Papyrus exclaimed, hands up in the air. "DOOMGUY ARRIVES! IN ORDER TO PROVE YOUR WORTH AS MY HUMAN CAPTIVE, MY BROTHER AND I HAVE CREATED SOME PUZZLES TO TEST YOUR MIGHT!" Papyrus motioned to the empty space in between Doomguy and the two brothers.

"I THINK YOU'LL FIND THIS ONE…" Papyrus said, putting a mitted hand over his mouth, "QUITE SHOCKING!"

_Electric puzzle?_

"FOR YOU SEE, THIS IS THE INVISIBLE… 'ELECTRIC MAZE'!

_Mhm._

"WHEN YOU TOUCH THE WALLS OF THIS MAZE," he continued, pulling a metallic orb out from behind him, "THIS ORB WILL ADMINISTER A HEARTY ZAP!"

_Of course._

"SOUND LIKE FUN? BECAUSE!" Papyrus added with a dramatic pause. "THE AMOUNT OF FUN YOU WILL PROBABLY HAVE… IS ACTUALLY RATHER SMALL I THINK." Papyrus looked aside, as if unsure he should continue.

"OKAY, YOU CAN GO AHEAD NOW," Papyrus said, motioning for Doomguy to try navigating through the electric maze.

_Think I can just walk around it?_

"No," his friend replied.

_Why not?_

"Where's the fun in that?"

Doomguy rolled his eyes, and took a step forward.

Immediately, the taller brother started to tense up and spasm, smoke fuming up from his charred bones.

Doomguy cringed in second-hand pain looking at Papyrus get electrocuted by his own trap. For a split second, he thought the worst had happened as a blackened Papyrus stood perfectly still after the barrage of electricity.

"SANS!" Papyrus finally yelled, shaking the soot off his bones rather comically. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

"i think the human has to hold the orb," his brother replied, seemingly unfazed by both the electric mishap and Papyrus' annoyance.

"OH, OKAY," Papyrus said, and turned to face Doomguy. He began walking through the snow towards Doomguy, in a very certain path that allowed him through without being zapped. At least, he reached Doomguy, holding the orb before him.

"HOLD THIS PLEASE!" he practically yelled at Doomguy's helmet, tossing the orb high into the air. He walked back to his brother, following the same path as before. Doomguy extended his arm and caught the orb perfectly in his gloved hand.

The space marine looked down at the footprints left by the taller skeleton, and gave Sans a look that could be tranlated to "Is this guy okay?" Sans did not reply, toothy grin still plastered on his skull.

Letting out a long sigh, Doomguy walked into the electirc minefield, following Papyrus' footprints perfectly without even looking down.

As he left the "trap", Papyrus posed in an exaggeratedly shocked manner. "INCREDIBLE! YOU SLIPPERY SNAIL! YOU SOLVED IT SO EASILY.. TOO EASILY!."

Doomguy looked over his shoulder to make eye contact with his little friend, who was suddenly right behind him. No words were needed to convey to the child his irritation.

"HOWEVER! THE NEXT PUZZLE WILL NOT BE EASY! IT IS DESIGNED BY MY BROTHER, SANS!"

_Oh, no._

"YOU WILL SURELY BE CONFOUNDED!"

_I'm sure I will._

"I KNOW I AM!" With that, Papyrus half moonwalked, half backwards-marched away, laughing his nasal laugh all the way til he could not be seen or heard.

Doomguy let his mind try to recover from that ordeal, feeling as though he had lost some brain cells after all that. Unfortunately for him, Sans decided that was the best time to walk up to him and start a conversation.

"hey, thanks..." the short skeleton said, "my brother seems like he's having fun."

" **... No problem.** "

"by the way, did you see that weird outfit he's wearing?"

" **Yeah. UAC chest plating. Old model. For construction, other non-combatants,** " Doomguy answered. He fixed Sans with a threatening stare and continued, " **Where'd you get it?** "

"dude, you're hilarious," Sans answered, either unaware of Doomguy's piercing stare, or uncaring of it.

Probably the latter.

"we made it a few weeks ago for a costume party," Sans explained.

" **Oh.** "

"he hasn't worn anything else since... keeps calling it his 'battle body.'" Sans looked down, and though his smile didn't leave him, his expression seemed to change from 'shit eating' to 'heart warming'.

"man," Sans said, looking sort of past Doomuy instead of at him. "isn't my brother cool?"

Doomguy nodded slowly, unsure of how to answer the question, or if he  _should_  answer the question.

Doomguy turned to leave without another word from either of them.

"Those brothers are close, huh?" the child next to him asked, more matter-of-factly than like an actual question. The odd pair continued walking down the snowy path. "Do you have any family?"

_No._

"Did you?" the child added, completely ignoring how that might bring up painful memories for the space marine. Luckily, it didn't.

_Just pets._

"Oh," the child said, surprisingly solemnly. She looked down as they kept walking, eyes on her ethereal boots.

And so they walked in silence.

* * *

Doomguy inspected the two guardhouses in front of him. They were both identical to each other, and identical to the guardhouse that Doggo had come from earlier, down to the little doggy emblem adorning their individual rooves.

"There's more guard dogs here," his companion said.

_Are dog people common here?_

"Not anymore than skeletons," she replied. "There's a lot of bunny people in the town."

 _Bunnies, huh?_  Doomguy mused.  _That I'll have to see._

"There's a sign here," she chimed, and true enough, she was reading a sign placed between the two guardhouses.

A few seconds passed in silence.

_Well?_

"It's just a warning system. The important thing is," she paused, pointing a finger at him before continuing, "is humans are code green. And green means destroy."

Doomguy looked down at his green ballistic armor, that has seen him through Hell - figuratively and literally - and let out a tired sigh. The child smiled her wicked smile in response.

_At the rate everyone keeps throwing themselves at me, the demons will find me before I find them._

"That sounds fun." Her smile was smaller now, but nonetheless creepy.

_Oh fuck off._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. I have no legit reason for that long as fuck impromptu hiatus. But I'm back. Thanks for reading.  
> Doom Eternal hype train, baybee.


	12. Weird Dogs (and even more brothers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doomguy eats ice cream, solves a puzzle, and pets some dogs.

"Are you going to eat that?"

_Why would I buy it if I wasn't going to?_

"Can we share?"

He gave her an annoyed look.  _No. You don't need it._

The child pouted at the space marine. "Selfish."

_You're dead. You don't need healing items. You can't even eat._

She pouted some more and crossed her arms, then looked away. She didn't say anything else.

With a long, drawn out sigh, and a roll of the eyes so far his pupils threatened to leave this plane of existence, Doomguy turned back to the Nice Cream vendor.

"Welcome back!" the uniformed rabbit man said a little too enthusiastically to not sound desperate. "What can I get for you?"

" **One more,** " Doomguy answered. " **Please.** "

"No problem!" the vendor practically shouted back. The vendor flipped the lid on his nice cream cart, revealing untouched packs upon untouched packs of the popsicle treat. He delicately took the topmost pack and closed the cart.

"Here's your nice cream sir," the vendor said, handing it to him. "That'll be 15G!"

Doomguy rifled through his ammo pouches and got a fistful of coins, and placed it in the comparatively small hands of the vendor.

" **Keep the change.** "

"Thank you, sir! Have a super-duper day!" the bunny man says, his smile genuine.

Doomguy only grunted in response, and turned back to where he was going.

Without missing a beat, he pulled his backpack of supplies and dropped the new pack of nice cream in, and fished out the older one.

 _Here,_ he thought as he handed it to the child. _Hope you choke on it._

"I want the fresh one," she replied, eyeing his backpack.

Clenching his fist in an attempt to control himself, he put the nice cream back and got the new one instead. He wordlessly, or in this case, thoughtlessly, handed it to her.

"Open it for me."

_Are you fucking serious?_

"Please?" she added, an attempt at a sweet smile on her face.

Doomguy ripped it open with a brutal yank, and again handed it to her.

Finally, she swiped the popsicle from his hand, and took a huge bite right out of it.

She remained still for a second, then her shoulders dropped in relief. "Ish sho good," she said with her mouth full, a happy expression on her usually unfeeling face.

 _Yeah?_  Doomguy thought, fishing out his own pack of nice cream from his supplies.

"Yeahhh," she dreamily replied, shoving the popsicle into her mouth.

Doomguy lit up at that, and removed his helmet with a familiar click and hiss. He tore open his own nice cream pack, and took a bite out of the popsicle.

Silence.

 _Tastes like fucking snow,_  Doomguy thought disappointedly.

"Yeahhh," she responded, still dreamily, and still stuffing her face with the bland dessert. "Sho good."

Doomguy ate his nice cream in frustrated silence.  _At least this will heal me._

Indeed, Doomguy could feel some of his aches from Toriel's flames fade away, though it only seemed to heal a fraction of the damage the powerful goat woman dealt him – which was just a fraction of his total life.

"Wha dosh yoh wrapper shay?" the child asked, taking the last bite from her popsicle.

Doomguy half-heartedly looked into his empty wrapper.  _It says, 'is this as sweet as you?'_

The child laughed, covering her mouth so none of the snow-flavored dessert comes out. "Ish funny cosh yoh not shwee ah all!"

Doomguy rolled his eyes.

She swallowed all of the nice cream, and wiped her mouth across her sleeve. "Mine has a drawing of two rabbits hugging. Isn't that cute?"

Doomguy held his helmet in his two hands, instinctively inspecting it for damage.  _You're showing a lot more emotions than just earlier._ He turned his gaze to her.

The child suddenly froze up, and as if suddenly self-conscious under his gaze, brushed a stray strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

"Is that good?" she asked, looking at him from the corner of her eye. Was she getting shy, or...

 _You tell me,_  he replied.  _You're a lot more annoying when you think you're cute,_  he added as he picked at some dirt on his helmet's mouthpiece,  _but you're not threatening to destroy reality anymore_. He turned his head to make eye contact with the child.  _That's probably an improvement. Probably._

The child chuffed at his comments. "Well, you've probably rubbed off on me," she responded in faux-nonchalance, "that's why I'm so annoying."

 _Uh huh,_ he mumbled, putting his helmet back on.  _Where's your wrapper? Don't litter._

"I'm keeping it."

_What are you, six?_

"I'm almost fifteen!" she yelled, crossing her arms and stomping her boot into the snow.

" **You're fourteen?** " Doomguy said, so taken aback he didn't realize he had switched to verbal communication. To him, the child looked at most ten years old. Did the royal family not feed her right?

"I know, I know," she said, waving a hand at him in a shooing motion. "I look mature for my age."

" **Pfft-** " Doomguy choked, but he stopped himself from full on laughing at the child – or teenager, supposedly.  _Er, right. Let's go, shouldn't waste time._

"Hmph!" she scoffed. "Whatever." She gave him her hand, and they continued walking to eastward.

Silence.

…  _Aren't you too old to need me holding your hand?_

"No," she said flatly, though she didn't provide any reasoning behind her answer.

They marched on.

* * *

  _This is fucking insulting,_ Doomguy thought as he read the "puzzle" that Sans had left for him.

"SANS, YOU'RE A GENIUS!" Papyrus whispered (read: yelled) to his brother. "HE'S COMPLETELY STUCK WITH THE PUZZLE!"

"i'm surprised myself," Sans responded. "i thought i'd have to whip out today's crossword."

"WHAT?" Papyrus barked, perplexed. "CROSSWORD? I CAN'T BE-"

" **Hey,** " Doomguy interrupted. " **Do you have a pencil?** "

"OH. UM," Papyrus answered, looked through his pockets – which the battle body apparently had – for a pencil. "ONE MOMENT!"

"i got a pen," Sans chimed in.

"MY GOD, SANS, I WANTED TO CONFUSE HIM, NOT TORTURE HIM," Papyrus said indignantly as he fished out a perfectly sharpened pencil from an unseen container. "HERE YOU GO, DOOMGUY." He handed it to the space marine.

Doomguy turned his attention back to the puzzle, which could technically be called that. It was a word search for the children's segment on Sunday newspaper, so the word "puzzle" could accurately describe it.

 _Is that even a word?_  Doomguy asked his unseen companion as he pointed to 'gaisfclfebrehber' indicated on the puzzle's word bank.

"Not that I know of," she answered. "There's 'cigar', though."

 _Thanks._  Doomguy encircled the hidden word 'cigar' and 'cig' as his friend pointed out, and also the backwards 'skeleton' hidden in plain sight.

"AS I WAS SAYING," Papyrus continued, "TODAY'S CROSSWORD IS NOTHING COMPARED TO JUNIOR JUMBLE!"

Doomguy paused to quietly look in the brothers' direction, rolled his eyes, and continued.

"what?" Sans said, amused. "really dude? that easy-peasy word scramble?" Sans chuckled and looked aside. "that's for baby bones."

"WELL, IT'S WORKING JUST FINE ON DOOMGUY!"

"baby. bones."

"HUMAN!" Papyrus yelled as he pointed to Doomguy. "SOLVE THIS DISPUTE! WHICH IS HARDER: THE JUMBLE, OR THE CROSSWORD?"

" **Jumble,** " Doomguy answered without a second thought. " **I'm done**." He handed the finished puzzle to Papyrus.

"WHAT?" Papyrus said, seeing that Doomguy had done the impossible and solved the word jumble. "BUT HOW? YOU CAN DO IT BACKWARDS? AND UPSIDE DOWN?" Papyrus sockets widened into cartoony eyeballs as he scanned Doomguy's results. "I NEVER THOUGHT OF THAT! BUT HOW DID YOU FIND GAISFCLFEBREHBER?"

"yeah, how?" Sans joined in. "i was banking on you not finding guysficklwhatever."

" **That one word is misprinted** ," Doomguy said as he pointed to 'gaisfclfebrehber' in the word bank, which was one letter off from the encircled 'gaisfclfubrehber' in the jumble. " **It's spelled with a U, not an E. You should complain to the publisher."**

"That is such bullshit," the unseen child companion said.

_Language._

Papyrus' jaw dropped at Doomguy's completed word puzzle. "AMAZING... NOT ONLY RE YOU WISE, BUT YOU ARE CUNNING AS WELL! BRAVO, DOOMGUY, BRAVO!" Papyrus exclaimed while applauding the space marine. "YOU TRULY ARE WORTHY OF BEING MY PRISONER!"

" **So you'll take me to your king?** " Doomguy asked hopefully. " **Captain, neighborhood watch, or whoever.** "

"WHAT? OH. NO, NOT YET," Papyrus said sheepishly. "YOU STILL HAVE TO, UM, PROVE YOURSELF!" he added. "YEAH."

_God, he's just wasting my time._

"I think he prepared a lot of puzzles and wants to try them on you," his little friend explained. "Like a guinea pig," she added with her signature creepy smile.

"WELL, CONGRATULATIONS ON PASSING TWO OF OUR TRAPS, DOOMGUY," Papyrus said. "GOOD LUCK ON THE NEXT ONES, FOR THEY WILL TRULY PUT YOUR WIT TO THE TEST!"

And with his trademark nasal laugh, Papyrus walked away in the direction of Snowdin Town.

_Fantastic._

"hey," Sans said to Doomguy, his smile less lazy and more genuinely happy. "thanks for saying 'junior jumble' just to appease my brother."

_I was being serious._

"you even solved the whole puzzle. my brother's having a lot of fun."

Doomguy just nodded in response, as usual, and went off to the east.

"You seriously find junior jumble harder than crosswords?" Doomguy's little friend asked smugly.

_Crosswords are just knowing definitions. That's easy. Word search messes with your eyes._

"Hmph," the child said triumphantly. "What are you, six?"

Doomguy rolled his eyes.

* * *

 The dry leaves rustled softly as a cold wind howled through the ivory-white hills of Snowdin. The child stood motionless, dead eyes watching the space marine for what felt like an eternity.

How long has it been? How long has his march forward been halted? Is this really how it ends? Here, on the lonely wilderness, to be buried under layers of snow?

Finally, she felt the strength to say something.

"Doomguy?"

He did not respond.

She took a deep breath. "Doomguy."

Still, nothing.

"It's possible," she said, pausing to look for the right words, "that you may have a problem."

 _Why's that?_  he finally replied, his hand still firmly and continuously petting the excited, slobbering Lesser Dog, which at that point had stretched its neck by several yards to meet Doomguy's hand. The guard dog has not stopped panting and barking and yipping since the Slayer had started petting him.

"It's just. You've been petting him. For hours. Please," she pleaded exasperatedly, "let's go."

_It's been five minutes. Lighten up._

As if on cue, Lesser Dog whimpered and further nuzzled Doomguy's gloved hand.

" **Good boy**."

"But what about the demons?" she asked, hoping to verbally shake some sense into him.

Doomguy sighed, and gave one last pet on Lesser Dog's head. " **Got to go, buddy,** " he said as he stood up.

Lesser Dog got up with him, whimpering and whining at the cessation of pets. It circled the human playfully, its head dragging behind it like a weight attached by a very long rope.

 _Let's go,_  he thought to the child as he gave a wave goodbye to the inconsolable Lesser Dog, who was howling in grief.

"Finally."

The marine-child duo walked to the cliffside, to the hidden switch indicated on the map Lesser Dog was supposed to be guarding. With a click, the spikes blocking the path eastward were retracted, opening the route to Snowdin Town.

The child tugged at Doomguy's hand to pull him towards their goal as they passed dangerously close to Lesser Dog, who was sitting in the snow all by its lonesome, its head wrapped around its body like the coils of a snake. With some effort, they passed the now-retracted spikes, and crossed a short bridge to a new area.

That's when two hooded figures, each wielding large battle axes, stomped towards Doomguy.

 _More guards,_  Doomguy thought as he took a defensive stance.

"What's that smell?" one of them said in a deep voice.

"Where's that smell?" echoed the other in a much more feminine tone.

"If you're a smell..."

"... identify yoursmellf!"

The two circled Doomguy erratically, darting from one point to another, but always leaving his only escape routes – back across to bridge, or down towards the town – blocked. Doomguy tried to keep up with them, turning to face one or the other over and over to avoid being flanked. Finally, they closed in on him.

"Hmm," the deep voiced one said. "Here's that weird smell..." Readying its axe, it continued, "makes me want to eliminate."

"Eliminate you!" cried the feminine one with a swing of the axe.

Doomguy jumped back just in time to avoid being caught in the neck by the feminine one's large axe.  _Any ideas, kid?_

"These are the Dogi, they're married," explained his companion. "The husband is Dogamy, and the wife is Dogaressa."

 _That's nice,_  Doomguy thought as he side-hopped away from a downward chop by Dogamy.  _Any ideas how to BEAT them, specifically?_

"Well, you could shoot them," the child suggested. "But since you want to be boring, you could try to calm them down and pet them."

The Dogi pulled down their hoods simultaneously, locked arms together like a couple on a date, and crossed their axes in front of them like an X. Doomguy took a second to analyze their unorthodox, offensive-defense formation as the couple approached him.

"Don't touch my hot dog," said Dogamy with a forward lunge of his axe.

"He means me," Dogaressa said as she followed up with a sweeping chop.

Doomguy side-stepped away from the first swing, and only barely dodged the second by narrowly ducking and hitting the snowy ground at the last second. Some snow got in his armor and boots.

"Wait," his companion said, "do that again!"

 _What?_  Doomguy responded as he dodged more axe swings.

Dogamy barked at Doomguy, and a ring of heart-shaped magical blades flew directly at the marine. The Slayer jumped over it, but the ring came back like a boomerang to him, and he hit the snow hard from the impact.

_Shit!_

"That! Keep rolling in the snow," the child instructed, hands cupped around her moth as she yelled.

Prompted by the child's suggestion, as well as an axe chop coming straight down on him, Doomguy rolled like a log across the ground, getting snow all over himself. Dogamy and Dogaressa resumed their stance, but began sniffing the air around the marine.

"What!" Dogamy cried. "Smells like a..."

"Are you actually a little puppy?" Dogaressa asked as they both lowered their axes.

_What kind of logic is that?_

"Now pet them," the child commanded, excited from all the action.

Deciding that it's worked for this long, Doomguy lunged forward, hand outstretched, and pet Dogamy.

"Wow!" Dogamy exclaimed as Doomguy scritched the in-between of his fuzzy ears. "Pet by another pup!"

"Well," Dogamy chimed in as she watched her husband get pet. "Don't leave me out!"

Doomguy extended his free hand to Dogaressa and began petting her too. Now he was petting them both. The Dogi sat on the snow and wagged their tails and started talking to each other.

"A dog that pets dogs, amazing!" Dogaressa said excitedly to her husband as Doomguy pet circles on the top of her head.

"Dogs can pet other dogs!" Dogamy replied, still enjoying the generous pettings he was receiving.

_This is getting weird._

"I think you can stop now," the child told him. Doomguy immediately stopped and took a step back.

"A whole new world has opened up for us..." Dogaressa murmured.

"Thanks, weird puppy!" Dogamy said to Doomguy. With that, the Dogi went off together to Snowdin Town, leaving the Slayer alone with his thoughts – and the ghost child.

_That was. Something._

"I'm just glad you didn't get carried away with the pets."

_It's weird when they can talk. That like petting a person. A furry person._

_The two pressed onward._

"Petting people isn't that weird," she said defensively.

_Are you asking to be pet?_

"Oh, shut up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chara has a cute crush on doomguy, that's canon now.
> 
> also i'll be trying to update more frequently. doom eternal has me inspired.
> 
> PS WHICH ONE OF Y'ALL QUOTED ME ON INCORRECTSMASHBROSQUOTES


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